Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Sydney leans back against the pillows on her side of the booth, clearly still in shock. “But you’re so nice.” Her gaze sharpens on my face as she considers me anew. “You are nice, aren’t you? The saving puppies and the planet and being thoughtful and generous and saying sweet things isn’t an act?”
I exhale, having a pretty good idea where this is coming from. “Not to my knowledge, but… Let me guess, Adrian said I was a deadbeat?”
She huffs and mutters, “Something like that.”
I clear my throat, ashamed of the story I have to tell. But it’s the truth, and Sydney deserves the truth.
“My relationship with his mother ended badly.” I briefly describe the way Angela left, manipulating me into agreeing to let her leave the city with Adrian, then using it against me. “The ploy worked, she was granted full physical custody, and she did her best to sabotage our visitations when he was little. It was always a nightmare, no matter how hard I tried. By the time Adrian was in high school, he didn’t want to spend summers with me anymore. He filed a motion with the court, citing parental estrangement, and…that was it. We only saw each other a few days a year after that, when I could convince him to come with me to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving or spend a few days hiking in Colorado. But we always fought when were together, and I can’t pretend our relationship has been anything but strained.”
She studies me quietly, her expression giving nothing away. “Was there a fight tonight? When you told him about us?”
“I didn’t tell him.”
“Why not?”
I sigh. “He wouldn’t talk to me. Said he didn’t have time.”
Sydney rolls her eyes and mumbles something I can’t make out.
“But he said I could text him,” I continue, “and he’d get back to me when he had a second. That’s when I decided I’d had enough of the party.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “He can be such a dick. But usually only when he’s hurting or feeling insecure. He mentioned that you were coming before we left my place. He seemed stressed about it. He played it off as irritation, but I think maybe he just doesn’t know how to behave with you now that you’re both adults.”
I arch a brow and her lips curve gently.
“Well, you’re an adult,” she amends. “He’s still working on it. But he’s trying, he really is.”
“You think so?”
She nods. “I do. He isn’t a bad man, Gideon, and neither are you. It just sounds like there’s been a lot of miscommunication and outside interference between the two of you. But there has to be a way to make things better.”
“I hope so,” I say, regret making my chest ache as I add, “Though the fact that I left the party with his ex-girlfriend might complicate things.”
Her lips peel away from her teeth in a grimace. “Oh God. Yeah. And the fact that you and I… That we…” She clears her throat and reaches for her coffee, only to set it back down again with a sharp exhale. “I wish I’d asked for more coffee. Or a whiskey on the rocks, extra whiskey.”
I push my mug across the table. “Take mine.”
“Thanks.” She reaches for the coffee, her fingers lingering on mine for an electric moment before I pull away. “He’s going to be pissed,” she adds as she wraps both hands around the warm mug. “Or embarrassed or whatever feeling causes men to be mad that a woman decided to get naked with someone else. As you know, Adrian and I were never…intimate. And that was kind of a big deal for him.” She brings the coffee to her lips. “He actually made a joke about it tonight.”
My brows shoot up.
“I told him not to kiss me again or I was going to leave,” she says. “I reminded him that I was there as a friend, not his date. But he just laughed and made a joke about it being a sloppy friend kiss, not a real kiss. He said he was pretty sure I liked his real kisses, even if I didn’t like them enough to…you know.”
I want to punch him. My own son. It’s not a good look, but what the actual fuck? How on earth did he decide that was an acceptable thing to say to a friend who was doing him a favor?
“I’m sorry,” I say.
She frowns. “Why?”
“I raised a douchebag.”
She laughs. “He’s not a douchebag.”
I grunt, and she smiles.
“Fine, he can veer into douchebag territory every once and a while,” she admits. “But it never lasts long. And it doesn’t sound like you had a whole lot of influence over the way he was raised.” She takes another sip of my coffee before setting it on the table and pushing it toward me. “In any event, I don’t blame you for Adrian’s occasionally less-than-charming behavior.”