Page 98 of Bad Boys After Dark - Brett
He handed Brett a bottle of wine. “I wasn’t sure what you drank these days.”
“Thank you. Come in, please.”
Brett watched their father’s chest rise with a deep inhalation as he stepped inside. His gaze swept across the room, slowing on the faces of each of his sons, their wives standing nervously nearby. Their father nodded curtly, and his gaze caught on Adeline, who was walking around the far side of the couch, watching them with interest. Her little brows knitted, and she fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. Their father’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow. Brett wondered if he was thinking of Lorelei, the way he did every time he saw his niece.
“Dad, can I get you a drink?” he asked to break the tension.
“No, thank you. I’m not drinking these days.”
“I would like a drink,” Adeline said as she approached.
Carson stepped between his daughter and father so quickly, it was hard not to be embarrassed for them both.
“I’ll get you a drink, Addy Girl.” Carson lifted her into his arms and gave their father a signature Bad nod. “Good to see you.”
Mick offered his hand, giving Carson time to escape into the kitchen with Adeline. “I’m glad you came.”
Their father looked at his hand for a long moment before taking it in his own. But he didn’t shake it; he simply held it, which spoke volumes for a man who had taught Brett that a firm handshake told the person he was greeting how confident and strong he was. It saddened Brett to see his father giving up that stance, but at the same time, it warmed him to his core.
“It’s good to see you,” their father said to Mick. He looked at the others and said, “It’s nice to see all of you.”
Brett led him into the living room to Sophie. “Dad, you remember Sophie Roberts, Mick’s assistant.”
“Yes, of course. How are you?”
Sophie smiled warmly. “I’m well, thank you.”
“Sophie’s with me now.” Brett put an arm around her.
“Oh,” he said with surprise, and a genuine smile lifted his lips. “How wonderful.”
“About damn time,” Dylan said too animatedly, showing his nervousness, too.
The girls came over to greet him, and then Brett motioned toward the couch. “Have a seat, Dad. Kick back and watch the game.”
His father sat on the couch, looking uncomfortable and silently surveying the room. Brett knew that look. His father wanted to bolt. He couldn’t blame him. There was so much tension in the room, it practically vibrated off the walls.
When Carson and Adeline returned to the living room, Adeline set her cup of juice down on the coffee table and stood before her grandfather, studying his face. Carson kept a hand on her shoulder, his eyes on their father.
“Hello, Adeline,” their father said kindly.
She leaned into Carson’s leg. “Hi. You look different than you did at Mommy and Daddy’s wedding.”
“Do I? I feel different, too.” He leaned forward, and she wrapped her arm around Carson’s leg. Carson’s hand slid down her shoulder, holding her.
“You were gray,” Adeline said. “But now you’re a yucky blue.”
Their father laughed softly, but that laugher didn’t reach his sad eyes, which moved to Carson, then returned to Adeline a little warmer. “You’re a very smart little girl, aren’t you?”
She nodded.
“What color is your daddy?”
She looked up at Carson and gasped. “Daddy! You’re lemony!”
Carson smiled. “Am I?”
“Yes!” She let go of Carson and stepped closer to their father. “Now you look kind of gray and yellow and that yucky blue. You have a lot of colors. I haven’t seen anyone with as many colors as you.” She touched his hand, and Carson’s jaw tensed. “I don’t want you to be those yucky colors.”
She climbed onto their father’s lap, and his eyes shot up to Carson, a silent question hanging in the air between them. Carson’s nod was nearly imperceptible as Adeline pressed both of her hands to their father’s cheeks and said, “Grandpa, please don’t be ugly colors.”
“Adeline,” Carson cautioned her.
