Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
He hangs up. Not even ten seconds later, Kayla excitedly knocks on the door. “Dad, he’s here!”
I turn to the mirror, adjusting my tie. I’ve decided to dress formally for the evening. There’s no telling who this Ethan really is. Out of respect for Kayla, I haven’t run a background check, but I still intend to present myself as any father should—vaguely intimidating.
“I’m coming,” I say.
Since my getaway has been busted anyway, I brought my chef down from the city with my security. I enter the dining room to find candles lit and a beautiful young woman sitting with her back to me, wearing a silver, silky dress, her hair in soft waves and gorgeous down to her shoulders.
Maci turns, aims a tight smile, then wipes it clean when she remembers I’ve reverted to my cold asshole routine. Being so distant with her hurts, but it’s my only strategy. I’ll let it all go if I let out a shard of hunger.
A moment later, Kayla clears her throat from behind me. She stands with a young man at her side. He’s tall and muscular, wearing a shirt a couple of sizes too big, tucked into pants scuffed around the knees, but the clothes are clean. I can tell he’s made an effort, even if he doesn’t have the means.
His hair is black like mine used to be, long on the top and cut close on the sides. He steps forward, offering his hand. “Good evening, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I take his hand. At least he’s got manners. “And you, young man.”
“Thank you for inviting me into your home,” he says, his handshake firm but not overly firm, the way some people can be. It’s like they’re compensating for something. He seems like a genuine, confident, humble young man, but I won’t let my first impression ultimately dictate how I feel about him.
From behind him, Kayla beams, clearly loving how well we’re getting on already.
“What’s for dinner?” she asks, sitting at the table.
“Steak or fish,” I say, taking my seat at the head of the table.
“What about steak and fish?” Ethan smirks.
I laugh, thinking about what having a son would’ve been like. Out of the corner of my eye, Maci sparkles like a jewel, adding more fuel to those thoughts. Is it too late? I need to calm myself down. I’m getting too intense too early with a woman who’s way too inappropriate.
“If you think you can handle it,” I tell him, “I might join you.”
Maci is sitting next to me. I’m sure I can feel the heat of her leg under the table. I move my finger up and down the cutlery, struggling not to reach under and grab her thick thigh. Is she wearing tights? She was sitting when I entered. What if her bare, sexy, perfect leg is right there, waiting for me to grab and massage it? I’d make her moan in that sexy way—that just-for-me way.
Ethan grins. “Challenge accepted.”
“Juice, anyone?” I ask.
“What about something stronger?” Kayla teases.
I shake my head. “We won’t be drinking this evening.”
“Water’s fine for me, sir,” Ethan says.
“I was only kidding,” Kayla adds quietly.
I’m not a Puritan by any means, but having an alcohol- and drug-addicted partner tends to make substances less appealing.
When the waiter enters, I watch Ethan, waiting to see his response. He’s clearly far poorer than Kayla’s previous boyfriends. Their parents were millionaires, and they still wanted to climb the ladder, so to speak, but they were rich. Ethan is just an ordinary young man. He smiles kindly at the waiter. “Thank you, sir.”
The waiter—a friendly, hardworking man called Kenneth—double-takes as though in shock. “You’re quite welcome.”
I don’t smile, but I can feel the corners of my lips tugging. An insane possible future comes to me—a double date with Kayla, Ethan, Maci, and me. It would never work. Yet, I find myself hungering for it.
“So, Ethan, what do you do?”
Kayla shoots me a look as if to say, Really, Dad, the questioning is starting already?
I keep my gaze fixed on him.
“I wash cars,” he says without a hint of shame. “Long shifts, but the pay’s decent.”
“Tell him about your poetry,” Kayla says eagerly.
“That’s… not important.” He looks down into his glass.
“I’d like to hear about it,” I say, wondering why Maci hasn’t said a single word, wondering what’s going on in that beautiful head of hers.
He shrugs. “I write mostly about my parents. They were… addicts. We grew up in a mining town, but the mine closed. It’s a familiar story but no less tragic just because it’s continually happening nationwide. Maybe that makes it more tragic. There’s not much money in poetry for most poets, so I wash cars.”
“It must be hard work,” I say.
“It is, but I don’t mind.”
Kayla is beaming at me, and I can’t deny that I’m impressed. When dinner is served and we make small talk—much about my and Sebastian’s company—I watch Ethan closely, looking for any signs of disingenuousness. One skill I’ve cultivated over the years is watching people—during meetings and deals—for possible backstabbings. Ethan is either the greatest actor I’ve ever met or just a sincere young man intent on making a mark on the world.