Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I sipped froth from the top of my glass and watched Mona study Charlie. She smiled when he popped a vodka-soaked olive into his mouth and let out an over-the-top orgasmic groan while I fixated on the way he dragged his teeth over his plump bottom lip. Fuck, that was hot. I adjusted my cock as Mona started a new round of questions.
“Did you say you have two fathers?”
“Yes. My bio dad and Gray, my godfather. They were a couple until I was nine or ten. I always secretly hoped they’d get back together. I’m twenty-five now and I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that it’s not gonna happen. Gray is in love with another man, and Dad is screwing his assistant.” He raised his glass in a mock toast and chuckled. “Family. Am I right? Do you have children?”
“Yes, I have two sons…”
I entwined my fingers with Charlie’s under the table. Not too tight, but firmly enough that he couldn’t wiggle away. We played a hand-holding war, tangling and untangling our fingers as Mona droned on about her accomplished sons…the doctor and the lawyer, their beautiful children, wives, and gorgeous homes somewhere in suburbia.
I tuned out their conversation and let the background music take over. The feel of Charlie’s hand in mine, the Eagles classic on the speakers, the couple at the table next to ours talking about their kids, the woman tapping her fingers repeatedly on her cell phone while glancing toward the door, glasses clinking, people laughing…and somewhere in the cacophony, I found rhythm. Human rhythm and rhyme. Other people’s worry, laughter, anxiety, desire, and depression. I could float above it and listen for the beat to reveal itself. I could create another expression that might give meaning to misery. I flattened my palm against Charlie’s and laced our fingers, tying myself to him like he was my anchor. After a while, he was.
I didn’t have to say a word. Charlie took over. He entertained Mona and flattered her, sipping his martini as he held my hand under the table for ten or maybe twenty minutes. I lost track of time. And it didn’t occur to me to think I’d chosen an odd safe haven until I reached for my cell, accidentally lifting our joined hands.
Mona pursed her lips before pushing her empty glass to the edge of the table. “I have to tell you something, Kyle.”
Okay. Here it comes. My gut clenched as I braced myself for the mysterious message, pissed that my father still had the power to unnerve me even when he wasn’t in the room. I wiped my slick palms on my jeans and waited for her to speak. She pulled her bag onto her lap and bent her head to rummage for something inside it…and then froze.
Silence.
I blocked out the voices, the laughter, the clinking of glassware, and the sound of traffic in the distance and focused on the Todd Rundgren tune playing in the background. “Hello, it’s me…” I worked out the chord progression of the bass in my head, absently wondering if Mona was about to ruin this song for me.
“What is it?” I asked, finally breaking the awkward silence.
“Your father wants to speak to you,” Mona said softly.
Yep. Ruined.
“I thought the idea of this meeting was for you to relay some kind of message. Not to summon me to—”
“He’s dying.”
This time when the silence returned, it took the music. I felt like I was at the bottom of the ocean, dragging my feet in the sand. I could see the light at the surface, but I couldn’t hear a thing. And nothing scared me more than nothingness. But I knew how to undo it. Deep breath, measured exhale, clear mind, clear focus. I recited the chant over and over in my head. The harder I tried to reestablish control, the faster I unraveled. Any second now I’d gasp like a fish out of water and give everyone the crazy idea that I gave a shit. I couldn’t let her think I cared. I couldn’t leave myself open or let my mind wander down memory lane ’cause I fuckin’ hated that place. And I couldn’t—
Charlie set his hand over mine and squeezed. And just like that, I could breathe again.
I couldn’t speak, though. Not right away. I licked my lips and let out a rush of air, but there were no words attached. I tried again.
“What happened?”
“Cancer.”
“Karly told me he was sick. But she didn’t say cancer.”
Mona slid her martini glass in front of her and twisted the stem in a slow circle before continuing, “He says the doctor gave him six months to a year and that nothing more can be done.”
“I’m so sorry,” Charlie said, releasing my hand to reach for Mona’s. I frowned when he swiped a tear in the corner of his eye. Charlie was such an enigma. His ability to go from a badass, take-no-prisoners diva to an emotional mess over a man he’d never met before was baffling to say the least.