Page 14 of King of Guilt

“Let’s do it,” he casually said before looking back down at his plate, poking a piece of carrot with his fork. “It’ll be good.”

What for?

“Are you sure? You don’t have to; I can go alone.”

“Why?” He looked up at me with vacant eyes. “Aren’t we married?”

I wanted to say, ‘No. We’re pretending to be married, and that makes all the difference.’ But perhaps he needed a change; to mingle with people other than his own circle. That was why I nodded. “Sure. I’ll set it up.”

“You have my calendar,” he followed. “Just pick whatever free evening that works for the two of you and add it on there.”

“Okay.”

After dinner, I called my father to accept his invitation.

***

At dad’s favorite restaurant—a place with live music and dancing in the background—the three of us sat there, the air between us thicker than honey. From the way he looked at us, I knew that he was suspecting something. After all, Dean and I weren’t holding hands or gazing into each other’s eyes the way newlyweds normally would.

In an attempt to save face, I held out my fork with a piece of what I was having and lifted it up, addressing Dean. “You have to try this,” I said with a sweet voice, my eyes beaming at him with a ciphered message I hoped he would pick up.

Smiling, he leaned forward, parting his lips and accepting the bite. “Hmm.” He nodded in approval—real or forged, I didn’t know—and said, “Now I know what I’m getting next time.”

Even though I knew my dad hardly ever approved of my life decisions—my career choice included—I saw his face relax a little.

After our first round of drinks, I felt nature’s call. Leaning over to Dean’s ear, I whispered, “I need to use the ladies’ room. Can you just talk about anything while I’m gone? I don’t want him to lead the conversation.”

Dean’s smile was both confident and slightly mocking. He inched closer and whispered, his lips almost touching my cheek, “You don’t need to worry about me. The man’s an open book. Go.” I knew he wanted to enunciate in a sexy manner, so that my father would think that we were flirting, but boy, did it work. A shiver ran up my spine, and I had to practically shoot out of my chair before Dean could see the sudden effect he had on me.

On my way to the bathroom, I was still fumbling to regain my composure when my shoulder bumped into a man’s as he was walking out of the men’s room. “Sorry!” I looked up, and immediately froze when I saw Kyle, my ex-boyfriend.

He instantly chuckled, his eyes studying me from head to toes. “Emmie!” That was his nickname for me when we were together. “Gosh, how long has it been?”

I cleared my throat and plastered a smile on my face. “A little over three years.”

“Gosh, how are you?” He leaned in for a hug, and I shrunk in his arms, my hands glued to my thighs as my muscles tightened. Letting go, he looked at my dress again. “Elegant, as always. How’ve you been?”

“Good. And you?”

Ignoring my question, he grinned. “God! It’s like a kismet, huh? I was meaning to call you.”

“Why?” I blurted out, realizing how rude my question was when it was too late.

“Well.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’ve been in recovery for the past year. And… a part of the program is to get in touch with the people that my addiction had hurt. You know, to apologize… own up to it.”

“Ah.” I mindlessly nodded, taken aback. “Well, I guess you just apologized to me, then.”

“C’mon, Emmie. Don’t be like that—”

“Like what? Listen, Kyle. I’m having a quiet dinner with my dad, so if you don’t mind—”

“Your dad! I’d love to go say hi. Would he remember me?”

I tried to conceal my bitterness while resisting the urge to say something spiteful just to hurt him. “I don’t think so. It’s great that you’re finally getting a grip on things. Best of luck. Really.”

He seemed a little disappointed, but not actually hurt. Hanging his head, he nodded. “I understand. Look, it was great to see you. You look… absolutely incredible. Enjoy your dinner.”

“Yeah. You, too. Bye.”

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