Page 74 of The History Between Us

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I think about what he said. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, you can.”

“You seem to be okay with me and your son,” I say. “I could be wrong, but you haven’t even seemed to bat an eye since you found out. Why not?”

Roger smiles, the wrinkles around his eyes creasing. Bringing his coffee mug up to his mouth, he takes a sip while he seems to ponder my question. “I’ve spent many years wishing my son would find his person,” he murmurs, setting the mug back on the coaster on the table between us. “He spent many, many years alone all the way in Seattle, and I just knew there was someone out there for him. Someone to bring him joy, make him feel young again. That person, son, is you.”

My throat tightens, chest squeezing. “How did you know that, though?”

He chuckles. “I saw it from the very moment I met you. The way Will looked at you. The way you challenged him and got under his skin. I saw the fire you ignited in his soul. You sparked something in him that I haven’t seen in years from my son. How could I possibly be anything but ecstatic about that?” He arches a brow before adding, “It probably helps that you’re not my lifelong friend. Give your dad a little grace. I’m sure it’s a lot to take in, given the relationship he and Will have shared their whole life.”

Not long after, William comes out, a tray of delicious smelling goodies in hand, and we all dish up. William’s the better cook between the two of us, but I’m more than okay with that. After we finish eating, I help him tidy the kitchen before we run upstairs to get dirty in the shower before cleaning each other up. Getting ready side by side, I can tell we’re both feeling nervous about what’s to come today. The mood is a little sullen, and we’re both quiet, but I feel better that we’re going into this together. A united front as we try to make my father understand.

“Ready?” he asks as I’m finishing buckling my belt.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Stopping me with a hand around my waist before we can walk out of the bedroom, William looks me in my eye and says, “Whatever happens today with your dad, it doesn’t change anything for me.”

I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that. It’s like a weight is lifted off my shoulders, and I can breathe easier. “It doesn’t change anything for me either.”

There’s a moment when we just hold eye contact, not a single word spoken between us, yet so much is said. Loud and clear. Then I lean forward, pressing my lips to his, and allow myself this one kiss before we go face my dad, and hope for the best.

We take William’s car, and on the way over, I send my mom a text, letting her know we’re on our way. By the time we’re pulling into the driveway, my stomach is in knots. How doesthisfeel more nerve-wracking than I’ve ever felt sitting in the bucking chute, getting ready to ride a literal bull? William turns off the car, and we both glance at each other, a moment for reassurance, before we get out.

Rounding the front of the car, William takes my hand in his as we make our way up the walkway. Right about now, I’m ready to turn back around and head home. I have no clue how this is going to go. At the New Year’s party, when my dad had William’s shirt fisted in his hand, he looked like he was ten seconds from decking him. Bringing his hand up, William knocks on the door.

“Fuck, I’m nervous,” I breathe out with a laugh.

Chuckling softly, William says, “Me too. It’ll be fine.”

The door opens, my mom appearing before us. She looks from William to me, a hesitant smile on her face. “Hi, Will. Hi, honey. Come on in.”

Giving us both a hug, she closes the door behind us.

“Where’s Dad?”

“Getting dressed,” she murmurs as she walks past us toward the chair. “He just got out of the shower.”

“Does he know we’re coming?”

Wincing, my mom shakes her head. “No.”

“Lovely.” I huff out a laugh.

The floorboards creak as my dad bounds down the stairs, three sets of eyes darting in that direction. As soon as he reaches the bottom step, he turns, looking from William to me, then to my mom, his jaw clenching. “I guess we’re doing this today?” he drawls.

“Honey, they came over to talk to us,” my mom says softly, like the absolute saint that she is. “Can you please come sit down?”

Heaving a sigh, he takes a seat in the other recliner, his brows set in a hard line to match his jaw.

Glancing at William, I nod, letting him know I want to start. “Mom, Dad,” I murmur, nerves tight in my throat. “I’m sorry—we’re sorry—that you found out about us the way that you did. We had every intention of telling you, but we wanted time to explore what this was first, and then it didn’t feel right to drop the bomb on you around the holidays, so we decided to wait. And well, that blew up in our faces.”

My mom’s quiet while my dad huffs, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “I had my suspicions,” he mutters, not looking at anyone in particular. “The way you two behaved around each other whenever you were here. On Christmas, for example. But I brushed it off because I thought, surely, there’d be no way my best friend would be sleeping with my son.” He laughs dryly. “I mean, who would do that?”

William winces beside me.

“Then when I saw you”—he glances at William, gaze hard—“walk away from the fire at Conrad’s right before midnight, followed by Colt, I knew my gut had been right all along.”

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