Page 57 of The Betrayer
Chapter 23
Paul
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AS I REPLACED MY PHONEon my bedside table, I stared up at the ceiling, thinking about my conversation with my dad. I was surprised my father would ask to bring a date, but I was more surprised he would ask me if it was okay. Never once had my father asked my permission to do anything, including when it was about me. He had famously sent me to a summer camp without telling me about it or even asking if it was something I wanted to do. The car had shown up, I’d had ten minutes to pack, and suddenly, I was in the middle of nowhere, not sure why I was there. I had, of course, had a terrible time, and I was sure there was still a part of me that resented him for the entire episode.
However, the fact that my father had asked meant this probably wasn’t some fling. My father hadn’t called it a date, which was also interesting. He had explicitly used the wordsa friend of mine, which I hadn’t heard him use before. The man had also used the wordsinteresting,bright, andfunny, which were three words I had never heard strung together about any of the women he had dated. The adjectives usually centered around the size of the woman’s chest or the sport she played in college.
I wasn’t sure, but I might have been skeptically optimistic.
Beside me, Angela pushed herself up onto her elbow. “What was that all about?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea, but my father asked if he could bring a date to my business dinner on Monday.”
Even in the dark, I could see her eye roll. “Seriously? That man has no shame.”
“At least he asked this time. I think this one might be different—I haven’t heard him talk about someone like this before. He called her intelligent and funny and told me I would like her. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him talk about anyone like that.”
“Really?” Angela was already lying down again, her tone just this side of disinterested.
“Really. He usually only mentions other”—I paused, searching for a delicate word—“attributes. Nothing about their personality and certainly nothing about intelligence.”
“I’m not sure there was any intelligence to speak about anyway.” Angela’s snort was derisive.
I pushed myself onto my elbow to look down at her this time. “I think he may have found someone to be in a relationship with. Although he used the words ‘a friend,’ which is unusual, too.”
Angela stared up at me, her hair spread around her on the pillow, her skin lit by the city lights seeping through the crack in the curtains. “He’s had dozens of relationships. Why would this one be any different?”
“Just the way he sounded. He sounded almost enthusiastic. Plus the words he used to describe her. And the fact that he asked in the first place instead of picking up the first bimbo he saw on the way to dinner.”
Or, I had to be honest, at dinner.
“It’s incredibly rare,” I finished.
Angela didn’t say anything, watching me silently instead. I didn’t know whether she was waiting for more information or wasn’t interested in the subject matter. She could be damnably difficult to read sometimes.
“I mean, the last time he sounded this serious about someone was probably a decade ago. He met a woman closer to his age, who I actually liked. She was smart, funny, driven.”
“What happened to her?”
“I think she wanted more than Dad could give.” I flopped back down onto my back, staring at the ceiling. “I think she wanted an actual relationship, and she was too much for him, wouldn’t take any of his crap. Maybe too independent for him. I don’t know if what happened with my mom, their marriage falling apart, and the divorce scared him off anything real or what.”
“It happens sometimes,” was Angela’s only reply.
“Not that I care either way.” I sighed, pushing hair back from my forehead that had flopped forward. “As long as it doesn’t start affecting the business or me.”
“As it did,” Angela pointed out.
“Yeah, true.”
Why did I care so much that my father sounded genuinely interested in someone? It was something I never thought would happen, and I was surprised. It was something beyond that. Was I happy for the guy? Was I hoping a serious relationship would somehow tie him down or calm him down? Was I hoping for some significant change in how my father lived his life?
I couldn’t be too optimistic—it was one call, one dinner, and he had very clearly called this woman a friend. My only hope was that she was closer to his age and could carry on an actual adult conversation, unlike the parade of children who had strolled through his life for the past decade.
I didn’t know why he had started dating such young women in the first place. After he had broken up with the woman nearly his age, the women in his life had started getting younger and younger. I wondered if that guaranteed he wouldn’t have them in his life for very long. But he would be far from the first CEO to marry someone younger than themselves.
Maybe he didn’t like the idea of getting older, and these women gave him the illusion he was still young?
