Page 54 of Myself

“I got that. But how did that happen?”

I lean forward and place my forearms on my desk. Now, this part of the story I’m willing to tell him. “I can tell you, but I need your full discretion.” I’m not gonna beat around the bush with this man. He does have the potential to fuck with what I have with Becca, and I do work with him sometimes. Not saying I wouldn’t pick her over my business, because I would in a heartbeat, but that also shows how vulnerable she makes me.

He nods. “You have it.” And I believe him. Timothy isn’t the kind of guy who fucks around, not on something like this. A man like him has more secrets than most, and he’ll take them to his grave.

“He broke up with her while we were in Panama. I found him afterward in the hotel bar already hitting on another woman. I dragged him to the bathroom and beat his ass.” Might as well let him know what I did. I’m sure his wife already does. Conner is a little bitch, and he wants others to feel sorry for him. He probably ran to Tim’s wife crying that I touched him.

“He’s had that coming,” he says, rubbing his face as if visualizing it.

“Did you know about it?” I come out and ask.

He frowns. “How would I know about it? I don’t talk to Conner.” He lifts his right foot and places it on his left knee. “I don’t have any need for a man like that.”

“Just curious,” I say with a shrug. Why would his wife not tell him? It would just give her one more reason to hate me. Maybe Conner didn’t tell her.

His eyes narrow on me. “No, you weren’t. What do you have to say, Jaycent?”

Tim never was a bullshitter. It was always hard to talk our way out of trouble when Ryder and I were younger. We could bullshit our way out of anything with my dad, but not with Ryder’s.

“Well, I got some information out of him.”

His brows pull together. “What kind of information?”

I take a deep breath and let it go. “He told me that your wife had been paying him to be with Becca.”

He shoots to his feet. “She what?” His choice of words hurt. There’s no look of doubt on his face, just pure rage. He knows what she is capable of.

“He told me that he had planned to dump her, and your wife came to him and offered him money if he would go with her to Seattle.”

He shakes his head, and his jaw tightens. “I fought with that woman over Becca going to Seattle. I told her it was stupid to ship her across the country when she could get the same education right here!”

“He said she didn’t want her staying in New York because of me.”

“You?” he asks, starting to pace back and forth.

I nod. “She told Conner that she didn’t want her around me. That she knew Becca loved me, and there was no way ...”

“She wasn’t gonna let her be with you,” he states, coming to a stop and looking at me. He tilts his head to the side. “She wanted her gone because of you.” I swallow nervously. He’s gonna blame this all on me. It’s my fault, after all.

I slowly stand. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Why? Because my wife would rather pay a man than have her end up with you?” he asks with bite.

I can’t help but ask how he would have reacted four years ago if he knew a twenty-five-year-old was in love with his eighteen-year-old daughter. “Is she much better than you?”

His eyes narrow on mine. “What does that mean?” he demands.

“I feel as if you would have paid me to walk away,” I say truthfully. Timothy O’Kane is a shark in these waters. He pays people off to get what he wants and buries those who refuse to take the money.

“I never said that,” he growls and then lets out a long breath. “I know you’re a good guy, Jaycent.”

“But ...” I add.

He looks me in the eyes. “But you were too old for her then, and you’re too old for her now.” I don’t argue because her age has always been a huge factor. “But I never liked Conner,” he spits out. “That spineless weasel.” He fists his hands down by his sides. “And my daughter is an adult now and can make her own decisions. Plus, anyone is better than he is.”

“Thanks,” I say dryly.

He looks away, and his eyes find the picture I have sitting on my desk. It’s of me, my mother, father, and sister. I don’t remember the picture being taken, but I had to have been seven, maybe eight. My parents had taken me and my sister to Disney World. We stand in the middle of a walkway; strangers cover the background of the picture, and the tall castle towers back in the distance. I’m on my father’s shoulders with my hands in the air, a huge smile on my face, and Mickey Mouse ears on my head. My mother’s left arm is around my father’s waist, and the other is holding my sister’s hand. We’re all smiling at the camera. My chest tightens, and I look away from it.

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