Yet, I want her here.
“Yes. And everyone allows him to get away with it. Because he’s brilliant and rich and people fear him a little bit.”
“Do you fear him?”
“I think I did as a kid. Feared what would happen if I made my own decisions. But it’s deeper than that.”
“How so?” she asked, completely invested in the conversation. I ran my hand over the back of my neck. I didn’t like sharing this much.
“I don’t know. And this is a very boring conversation. Let’s talk about that asshole ex of yours.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Jump out of the conversation the minute it goes deep. Tell me something that he did to stop you from making your own decisions. We’re friends—you can trust me.” Her words were so earnest they caught me off guard.
“Friends who make out.” I chuckled. “Listen, no one wants to hear about the rich dude’s baggage. I’ve had a good life. I’m not going to sit here and complain.”
“Myles, just because you have money doesn’t mean that your father can’t be an asshole. Now tell me something, because I shared my horror story about my mother with you.”
I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my coffee. “All right. When I was thirteen years old, I came home early from school because I was sick. My mom was away on a vacation with her sister, and Daniel, our driver back then, picked me up. I got home and went to my room to lie down, but I found my father there instead. He was in my bedroom with our housekeeper, Wendy. The man missed sporting events and graduations because he was so fucking important in the medical world, but here he was on a random Tuesday, fucking the housekeeper in my bed.”
“You’re serious?” Her mouth gaped open, and I shrugged.
“I told you we shouldn’t talk about it.”
“Just because it’s shocking doesn’t mean we shouldn’t talk about it. I told you that my mother told my father he could put me up for adoption when I was four years old.” She sighed. “But yes, him having an affair and you witnessing it had to be traumatic. Was he horrified that you’d caught him?”
“That’s a hard no, HB.” I cleared my throat at the memory. “It was the first of many, actually. I’m fairly certain Wendy’s son, Caleb, is my half brother. She lives in the guesthouse on our property, and he was raised there. Like this is a perfectly normal thing to do. Keep your mistress living on the property and working at your home. This is the kind of shit I’m talking about.”
“What did they do when you caught them?” she asked, completely innocent to the twisted narcissist that is my father.
“Um, they continued doing it in that moment. He shouted at me to get out of the room. He then came out after and told me if I mentioned it to my mother, I would be very sorry.”
“What? What does that even mean?”
“Over the years, I learned that he was referencing a very hefty inheritance, which had very little to do with him, since it came from grandparents on both sides. But he was protecting himself, because if my mother were to have left him, it would have been a costly divorce. So he made sure I knew that somehow I’d suffer if I told. He also said I’d be responsible for destroying our family, which was clearly already destroyed, though I didn’t understand all that at the time.”
“You were just a kid. So what did you do?” she asked, moving closer and reaching for my hand.
“I caught them a few more times, because apparently once I was aware, it was impossible to miss. And he continued to threaten me. The weight of lying to my mother was a heavy one, and for years I struggled with what to do.” I cleared my throat, unsure why I was even telling her all of this. “And I told her on my sixteenth birthday. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. It was a huge relief once I actually said the words. Once I stopped carrying his secret.”
“What happened?” she whispered.
“She wasn’t surprised. She knew about it. She said that no marriage was perfect, and she cried because she knew the toll that keeping that secret must have had on me. My mother is an amazing woman, and I just don’t know why she’d settle for it, you know?”
The next thing I knew, she was unbuckling her seat belt and pushing up the armrest between us before climbing onto my lap and wrapping her arms around my neck.
“I’m sorry, Myles. That was a shitty thing to go through.” She pulled back. “And living in a mansion and having private planes and all the things that money can buy doesn’t change that.”
There was a goddamn tear coming down her cheek.
She was taking on my pain.
Pain that I didn’t even feel anymore. Maybe I’d been sad when I was a kid, but now all that sadness had turned into anger.
As an adult who’d gone through a few good years of therapy, the one thing that had surprised me was my pursuit of going to medical school. It hadn’t been something I’d dreamed of or even been drawn to. But my disdain for my father was complicated. And for a long time, I still craved his approval, which was why I had taken that path originally. But the day I walked away from medicine was a turning point for me and my father. I no longer cared what he thought of me, nor did I seek his approval. In fact, I welcomed his disappointment most of the time. And he couldn’t stand that. So in turn, he became meaner. Angrier. More hostile every time we were together. And I felt nothing for him at this point in my life.