Page 41 of SCRUMptious

“First, I didn’t knock up five other women. Onlytwo.”

I sputtered an indignant cough. “You’re fucking kidding me.” And then I started ticking them off one-by-one.

He brushed the names aside. “Kaylie, Keyshawn, and Royce aren’tmine.”

“What?!”

This time heads did turn our way to locate the source of the shouting. I lifted my hand and waved. Nothing to see here, folks. Just having a chat with mydad.

Next to me, he smiled and raised his drink in a silent toast to our observers.

When they eventually turned back around, I said, “What in the ever-loving-fuck are you on about?”

“Just what I said. They’re notmine.”

“But you claimed theywere.”

He shrugged. “Look, I slept with their moms. I’m not denyingthat.”

I shook my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t even understand what you’re saying rightnow.”

He leveled me with an exasperated look. As if it was my fault I couldn’t keep up with the twists and turns this conversation was taking. “I have a fuck ton of money, Donal, and those women don’t. If they were desperate enough to try and pin a baby on me, they probably need it more than I did.” He coughed, looked away guiltily, and amended his statement. “Than Ido.”

“Wait, what?” I sputtered. “Anotherone?”

He shrugged—again. Like what he’d just said was no big fucking deal. Like he hadn’t just casually mentioned he might have another kid out there somewhere. That I might have another brother or sister. “It might bemine.”

“Might?” I barked. “You don’tknow?”

“Stacia’s friend …”

My eyes bugged out of my head and my jaw dropped. “You fucked Stacia’s friend and the daft woman stayed withyou?”

Shit, she’s even stupider than I thought.

“Oh, calm down,” he huffed. “Stacia was there.”

I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath. This was more than I needed to know about my dad’s sex life. Way, way more. I held up my hand and opened my eyes. “Stop. I don’t want to know. Forget I asked.”

He looked out over the horizon, his eyes hard and defiant. “I’m not ashamed of how I live mylife.”

“No, that’s perfectly clear.” I paced several steps away, and then turned back to him, realizing he still hadn’t answered my earlier question. “Why? Why do you do that shit? Weren’t mom and I enough?”

He eyed me down the length of his nose. “Does it matter?”

Does it?I asked myself.

The truth was, nothing he could say now would make me forget all the nights I’d walked into my mom’s bedroom and found her crying. She’d tried to pretend she wasn’t, but even when I was a little boy, I’d known better. Or the Christmases she’d find receipts for jewelry or other expensive gifts sshe hadn’t been the one to unwrap.

And yet, I needed toknow.

“Yes, itdoes.”

“Walk with me,” he said, taking off through the gate toward the water.

I jogged after him, careful not to put too much weight on my bad foot. My injury had healed nicely (this time), but I was all too aware how that could change with one wrongstep.

Once I caught up, he continued walking, his tux jacket unbuttoned and flapping in the breeze. He’d taken his tie off ages ago. “The truth is, son, your mom and I had an open marriage.”

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