Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Hey, that was one of mine!”
“Sorry,” I mumble, mouth full. Then I go for an angry gulp from my glass of orange juice across the table. “Don’t know what he’s doing here. I just want nothing to do with the man, no matter how ‘okay’ my mom claims to be with him being in town.”
Quin is still gazing over my shoulder. “Uh …”
“Really,” I go on, “just eat your breakfast like he’s not even here. I don’t want to have a chat with him, or draw attention, or give him the opportunity to turn on his nice-guy charm, try to win you over, make you think he isn’t a huge fuckin’—”
“That’s gonna prove tricky,” he says.
I look at him. “Why?”
My question is answered when the shadow of my dad falls over our table. He’s in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts with a flashy gold wristwatch. Typical.
“Hello, boys,” he greets us. His eyes fall on me. “Son.”
I take a deep breath. Despite the bitter words I just shared, I turn my sourness into a smile: my secret weapon I use every day at my job. “Hi, Dad.”
“I know. Not thrilled to see me. It’s okay, I learned my lesson last time, I’m not causing a scene. I know better than to get in your mom’s way, though … I was surprised when she invited me to Skipper’s get-together. Judging from the crowd that showed up, it was obviously more of a party for your mom than it was for him. Anyway, she’s got her reasons to be mad at me. I’m sure you do, too.”
“It’s fine. Not mad.”
“And yet you still can’t look me in the eye.”
I finally glance up at him, my jaw tightened. “Did you need something?”
My dad appraises me, mouth askew. “Nope. Just …” He clears his throat and tilts his head. “I’m just in town for the weekend. Again. Wanted to see how my son’s doing.”
“He’s doing stupendously fine.”
My dad reaches across the table, extending a hand to Quin. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Chuck.”
Before Quin can respond or even accept the handshake, I snort. “So you’re going by Chuck again, huh?”
“Charles is too formal. Screw Charles. Who’s Charles, anyway?” He chuckles jovially, then slaps a hand on my back. I’m certain I just visibly tightened up.
Quin, too polite to follow my lead, shakes my father’s hand. “I’m Quintin. Nice to meet you, Mr. Tyler.”
“Again, just Chuck will do.” He looks at me. “Hey, do me a favor and don’t tell your mother I’m in town again. I don’t want to overdo it. Being invited to Skipper’s party was stretching it enough. I’m only here to talk business with ol’ Marty, then I’m out of everyone’s hair. Don’t want to stir your mother up all over again.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s a small town, Dad.”
“I’ve kept myself scarce enough, she’s got no clue. Hey, what’s this Marty tells me about you and your brother finally burying the hatchet? That’s beautiful, son, I’m real proud of you two setting aside your differences.”
“That was ages ago, Dad.”
“Phew, for a moment there, thought he’d never forgive you, not after what happened.”
I’m out of my seat at once, my face in my dad’s. “It’s time for you to go.”
He takes a step back, stunned. “Adrian.”
“Get out of here.”
“Sorry. I … I just run my mouth sometimes. I—”
“Mom knows you’re here. My life, and my relationship with my brother, are none of your business. You gave up any right to care about us when you left. Do not make me say something ugly, Dad, just muster up whatever decency you got left and leave.”
He lets out a sigh and wipes his forehead, appearing at a loss. I stare him down, fire burning in my cheeks, as I wait for him to arrive at the correct decision to go.
Finally he peers around me at Quin. “I’m awful sorry for interrupting your breakfast. I’ll go,” he says the second I open my mouth. “I’m going.” Then he finally turns away and heads out of the diner. Some patrons around us have been watching this scene unfold, and all their eyes follow the man on his walk of shame out of Desert Moon.
I close my eyes, allowing myself to calm. Without even realizing it, I’ve lowered myself back onto the seat next to Quin, feeling my pulse as it beats in my ears.
I don’t even know where to begin.
“Adrian …?”
“It’s fine.” I reach across the table to pick up a taco off my plate, but I don’t take a bite. “If that scared you off, I wouldn’t even blame you for … for telling me I’m stupid to call us boyfriends when you don’t even know everything about me.”
“I’m not scared off.”
“Sure?” I ask, still not having taken a bite of my taco.
“Yes,” he says. “I’m totally sure.” After a moment, he nudges me. “I can’t speak for your appetite, but I still have mine, and you talked this place up a great deal, so …”