Page 80 of My One
My heart smiled. “I’d like that, but what about Doug?”
“I think we should dump him on the side of the road where he died,” Nic stated honestly.
I was silent as I thought about her suggestion. What did Douglas Scott deserve? The answer: Nothing.
“Okay,” I finally agreed and twisted my head to look at her.
“Really?”
I lifted a shoulder. “What else are we going to do with him?”
She thought for a moment. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
We went to the location where the police report said my parents were hit head-on. It was in the foothills on a part of a highway where the three-lane road merged into two. My parents had been driving on the side that had two lanes, and the driver who hit them might have thought one of the lanes was his because it was right before the merge. I’d never know for sure since all of them had died, but that was what the police report said, and the investigation was now closed.
I pulled the rental over onto the shoulder, turned on the hazard lights, and took a deep breath. “Ready?” my wife asked.
“Yep.”
She got out of the car, the silver urn in her hands. After I came around to her side, Nic handed me the container. Doug’s final resting place was perfect because it had nothing except dead weeds and bushes.
“Should I say something?”
“If you want.” She shrugged.
Did I want to say something? There was so much that I’d wanted to say when he was alive. I’d tried. I’d called and called them until I gave up after they didn’t show for my wedding—the wedding my momdidwant to attend. That thought alone was enough to fuel my rage for this man—this self-centered asshole.
So I spoke as though he were there. “I’ve learned a lot about you over the last two months. I learned that you cared more about yourself than the love of a mother for her son. I learned that your hatred toward me wasn’t my fault at all. For as long as I can remember, I knew you hated me. I just didn’t know why. Now I do, and while some might think you’re an honorable man to raise a child that wasn’t your own, you’re not. You could have let my mom go, let her be happy, and let her show me that she did care for me. But you didn’t. I didn’t tell your staff, your colleagues, or anyone who came to your viewing who you really were.” I chuckled. “Of course, no one knew about me, but I didn’t explain anything to them. So, you can live in hell knowing you were the devil in disguise.”
I opened the urn. “ButIwill livemylife being the man you never were.Iwill live my life feeling love, showing love, being loved.Iwill live my life knowing thatIwill never be like you.” I turned the container over just as the wind kicked up a little, blowing the scattered ashes farther along the dead roadside—exactly where Douglas Scott deserved to be forever.
Thrown on the side of the road like garbage.
Two Months Later …
The house in Santa Barbara sold. We got enough from the sale to buy a bigger home in New York—a home to start our family. We found a place in Sands Point that was perfect. It had a large backyard, updated kitchen, a two-car garage, and a master closet that was the size of my bedroom at my parents’ house. It was also not too far from Brooke and Easton. We were currently in escrow for the five-bedroom home, but it was closing in the dead of winter, and I wasn’t looking forward to moving in the snow no matter how perfect our new house was.
Before we moved, we took the second honeymoon that Edna gave us. It was already scheduled and paid for, and we weren’t going to let it go to waste. Thinking about the beach, the sun, and the ocean made me miss California. Or, more specifically, In-N-Out and those damn tacos. I couldn’t recreate the tacos, but I’d found a copycat recipe online for an In-N-Out cheeseburger and decided to surprise Avery and Easton. Brooke and Easton were coming over for dinner and had no clue I was about to bring the West Coast to the East Coast.
“Honey! I’m home,” Avery called out as he walked in through the garage.
I was in the kitchen making burger patties. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” he admitted and walked up, kissing me on the side of my head.
“Good. You can make yours a double.”
“Think we can talk our friends into helping us pack?” he asked as he grabbed a beer from the fridge.
“Yes.” I laughed. “They’re helping us move anyway.”
“We’re going to have to owe them for the rest of our lives.”
“Maybe we should transfer the flight and hotel for the Bahamas into their names?” I suggested.
“You don’t want to go?” Avery took a pull of his Fat Tire.
“I want to go. Isowant to go.”
