Page 52 of The Tryst

“Kyle’s a solid employee, so the appreciation is all mine,” I say.

That takes some of the heat off my brother as we catch up on Jack and Kyle, then the guys from the firehouse. Then Dad says Mom wants to know if we’ve remembered to get our flu shots.

“It’s August,” I point out with a laugh.

“Mom says the flu’s coming early this year,” Dad says, shrugging, acknowledging the request is a typical mom one.

“We’ll get them soon,” Finn says lightly.

On the way home, my brother huffs out a frustrated breath. “Dad’s wrong, isn’t he? About Marilyn?”

Ah, hell. Does he want me to lie? It’s not my place to render a verdict on my brother’s marriage, so I say, “No one truly knows a relationship except the people in it.”

Finn turns to the window, staring for a while at the buildings streaking by, the lights, the road.

When he shifts his gaze back to me, he just nods, perhaps both resolute and resigned as he says, “Yeah, that’s true.”

The car drops him off first, and I give him a clap on the shoulder. “You’re trying, Finn. That’s all you can do. Just keep trying your best.”

He’ll beat himself up for the rest of time if he thinks for one second he didn’t give something his all. Especially something as important as his marriage. “Thanks,” he says, then pushes open the door and tosses me an evil look. “Don’t think I forgot what happened at the pool.”

“I’d never think that,” I say, then he flips me the bird and leaves.

I smile, glad he’s back to himself again.

Once I’m home, I say hi to David, who’s camped out in the guest room watching a show on his laptop. With Cynthia, it seems, judging from the square icon on the corner of the screen that matches a framed photo of her on the nightstand.

“Bedroom looks good,” I say, though he didn’t do much with it. Ginny set it up, navy and white, guest-room style, and that seems to suit David’s temporary needs.

“It’s nice and rat-free,” he remarks.

“One of my favorite perks of this place.”

“Thanks again,” he says, then to the screen, he tells Cynthia he’ll be right back. He mutes himself and closes the laptop halfway. “I’ll look for a sublet this week, Dad.”

“No rush. Whatever works for you. Stay as long as you want,” I offer. It’s not his style, but damn, does it feel good to make the offer. To have the space and the means to make his life easier.

“I know,” he says with an almost embarrassed grin. “But my dad taught me to stand on my own two feet.”

Ah, hell. Way to make my heart thump with pride too. Like I have a choice but to cross to the bed and ruffle his hair. “You’re doing great, kiddo. Let me know how I can help.”

“I will,” he says, then fidgets with the laptop, clearly eager to get back to his girl. I ignore the slight pang of envy I feel that he can FaceTime her, focusing instead on how relaxed and calm he seems with her. I hope this blooming relationship continues to make him feel good.

I head toward the door. “Good night.”

“Night, Dad,” he says. That’s much better—Dad.

But just so there isn’t any confusion…

“No more Daddy Bancroft,” I say as I leave, voice stern.

“Yes, sir,” he says, and I don’t mind thesirone bit in this situation, because it’s a fitting response to a parental order. He better not call me that nickname again.

I get that he thinks it’s funny, and maybe it is to him. But not to me. Rose’s parents barely let me see my own kid when I was in college, right after he was born. I didn’t have much choice in the matter. I had more choices when I married her after college, but his name was his name then.

Now? I have choices. And David needs to know my choice is to be Dad, only Dad to him.

Alone in my bedroom suite, I take a shower then get ready for bed. As I’m brushing my teeth, my phone buzzes with a text. I set the toothbrush in the holder and check the screen.

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