Page 54 of Father Figure

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I was pulling the French bread pizzas from the oven when I heard someone knocking on my front door. Tossing the oven mitt onto the counter, I went to answer it. The last person I expected to see standing on the other side of it was Nicky’s father.

“Brian,” I greeted, failing to keep the surprise from my voice. “Is everything okay with Nicky?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. He’s fine. Probably at home watching cartoons,” he chuckled.

He must have stopped by on his way home from work because he was still dressed in a suit and tie, looking like the sexy lawyer I remembered. The things I used to do to him with those silk ties.

“Come in,” I offered, opening the door wider.

“Thanks. I won’t stay long. I wanted to talk to you about Nicky.” My eyebrows popped up, and he was quick to reassure me. “He's okay. At least, I think so. I’m just worried about him.”

Brian followed me into the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I just made some pizza.”

“No thanks, I’ll eat when I get home.”

I plated a slice of the cheesy French bread and leaned against the counter as I ate. “So, tell me what’s wrong with Nicky. What are you worried about?”

“I don’t know. He seems distracted lately, like he’s on cloud nine. Smiling, giggling, he seems happy.”

I was sure I looked confused as I asked, “Happy? Is that a bad thing?” Was it because of me? My ego swelled thinking of how happy I might have made my boy.

“I’m sorry,” he laughed, rubbing his face. “Of course it’s not a bad thing, I just wonder what the cause of it is. I was doing his laundry, and I found a pink thong and a tiny white Speedo bathing suit. Nick has never owned one of those. Is he dressing for someone?”

My heart thundered, and I worried it was loud enough for Brian to hear, which would give me away. The French bread stuck in the back of my throat. Setting my plate down, I turned to the cabinet and grabbed a glass, filling it at the sink with water to wash down the pizza. “I hadn’t noticed,” I lied, avoiding eye contact.

“Is he flirting with boys on the islands? Maybe he has his eye on someone in particular?”

“Not that I’ve seen. But I’ll keep an eye out. He spends his time with me and Sam.”

Brian wandered over to the breakfast nook that was part of my kitchen. There was a basket of laundry on the table I hadn’t got around to folding yet. He sat down in the seat beside it, raking his fingers through his hair, and he sighed heavily.

“I don’t know. I feel like he’s growing up so fast, and with college looming, I feel like he’s slipping away. Like I don’t even know him anymore.”

“Brian, Nicky is the same boy he’s always been. You know him. Even though he’s growing up, the best parts of him will never change. It’s part of who he is. You’ve got to let go at some point and trust that he’ll make good decisions. Trust that you raised him right.”

“I know, I know. He’s just so… You know how Nick is; no matter how old he gets, I feel like he’ll always need looking after. I’m just glad he’s spending the summer with you and Sam, instead of God knows where.”

My conscience wasn’t just nibbling at me, it was taking huge bites. This man had been my partner for five years. I shared a life with him. How could I continue to lie to him? I stood there, debating whether I had the courage to come clean with him when the decision was taken out of my hands. Brian’s gaze fell on a pair of pink-and-purple plaid boxer shorts poking out from the laundry basket. He recognized them, and his eyes went wide, his face slack, before tightening in anger. He snatched them from the basket and folded them in his fist. When he turned his anger on me and my guilt was written all over my face, he knew. I knew he knew.

“You son of a bitch,” he growled, launching himself at me. His meaty fist landed solidly on my jaw, clipping my lip and busting it wide open. The pain in my jaw exploded along with the burning in my lip, and the coppery taste of blood bloomed over my tongue.

“Brian, don’t,” I pleaded, putting my hands up to block my face. He grabbed my shirt, tearing the collar as he twisted it in his grip.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

I couldn’t even defend myself because I deserved his anger. “You should.”

That startled him enough to cool his jets for a moment. Brian let go of my shirt, but he didn’t step backward.

“Why, Cass? Of all the guys you could fuck, why Nick? Why my son?”

“I didn’t mean to,” I defended. “It wasn’t something I planned. It just…”

“Don’t say it. Don’t say it just happened. Shit like that doesn’t just happen. You don’t slip on the deck and accidentally stick your dick in my son's ass. It’s bullshit. Start talking.”

I moved around him to put some distance between us and struggled to drag a breath into my lungs. I was terrified to admit the truth to him, and pretty certain that he was going to hit me again.

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