Page 255 of 7+Us Makes Nine

“Thank you, I

dressed up for you.”

Her brow arched.

“For me?” She gaped.

“Yes, for you. I’m going to wait by the bar.” I leaned in and kissed her cheek, not sure if she wanted this kept a secret or not. With a wink, I left her to get back to work, I could tell she was dying to.

But I did go to the bar for a drink. A neat scotch was just what I needed to relax.

“Tristan.” That booming voice could only be my dad. Seriously, he should be an announcer or something.

I turned, and it was him. He wore a simple black suit, his hair matched mine. I hoped I would look like him when I got older, we could be brothers. Maybe that’s why mom sticks around with his boring ass.

“Hey, dad.” I stood up, and he hugged me quick. It doesn’t really matter how old you get. A hug from a parent leaves me all warm and fuzzy.

“Where is mom?” He sat next to me.

“With your sister. Talking to Kit.” I arched a brow.

“Whoa, he’s here?”

When dad ordered a vodka rocks, I knew the answer was yes.

“Yep.”

“You don’t want to talk to him?” I know I don’t. I mean, I want to meet the man with my sister, but I’m not in the mood to play good cop-bad cop.

“I already did. He seems alright. But I needed a drink.” He chuckled.

I shook my head.

Maybe I should just stay in here. Convince Emilia to have a private dinner with me instead. I want to do that stuff with her. Go out to dinner, take her home, rub her feet and listen to her day.

I never did that with Vivian. Hell, the more I looked back on it, the more it felt like we weren’t even married in the first place.

“Got it. She seems happy though.” He nodded.

“Yeah. She does.” He smiled to himself. I ordered another scotch.

We had our drinks and caught up on all the boring stuff. Dad and I never had very deep conversations. But I always felt I could talk to him, and he gave good advice. I guess I was lucky in that way.

“What do you think of me starting another business? This time keeping it.” I asked him, and he shot me a look.

“Bored already?” his thick brow arched.

“Maybe. But I figure if I did it again, I wouldn’t do it with the intention of selling it.” He pursed his lips.

“Understandable. What would it be?” He asked.

“Tech holding.”

“Damn, ambitious. I like it. You think you can handle it?” He smiled.

I shrugged, “Yeah.”

“Then go for it. You know we’ll support you.” I nodded. That was always a guarantee.

---