Page 52 of Trashy Affair Duet

“How do I lack initiative? I own my own business. And business has been good, I’ll have you know. I don’t answer to anyone, and that’s the way I like it.”

“You’re thirty-years-old, Kaden. It’s time to stop throwing your life away. You’ll never find a suitable wife at this rate.”

“You mean like Cash has? Again, case in point,” he says, gesturing to the doors Monica disappeared through. “Where’s his wife now? Oh, that’s right. She’s the only smart one here, since she bolted before the usual vitriol began.” Rising to his feet, Kaden throws his fork down. “Let’s go, Jules. I’m sorry I made you sit through this bullshit. I was stupid to think we could get through one fucking dinner without going to war.”

She slowly stands, pink tinting her cheeks. And no matter how hard I try to catch her eye, she refuses to look at me.

“Kaden, it’s your birthday,” Mom says. “Don’t leave.”

“Sorry, Mom, but I can’t do this.” As my brother and Jules head for the door, she finally glances at me, and it makes me crazy that I can’t read her expression, especially since her face is usually an open book.

The silence hanging over the table in their wake is crushing.

“Thank God for Cash and Monica,” my father says. “Those two are going to do amazing things at MontBlake.”

The slam of a car door echoes through the night. A few seconds later, an engine roars to life. Unable to take it any longer, I push back my chair and stand. “Since you think everything is so perfect, maybe you should know that Monica is cheating on me.”

My mother gasps, and Ned Blake’s face flushes with outrage. But the shocking revelation doesn’t seem to faze my father.

“Well man-up and put a stop to it.”

I take in each person at the table. Ned with his immovable disposition, and Roni with her icy blue-eyed indifference. My dad and his superiority and pig-headed know-it-all nature. My mom is the only one I feel bad for, because she’s too kind-spirited to handle the bullshit Ned and my father put her through.

The shit they’ve put us all through for years.

“I don’t even know why I try anymore,” I say. “Our marriage is crumbling. Monica sure as hell isn’t happy. I’m not either. In fact, I don’t see a single person at this table who looks happy right now.”

As my mother covers her mouth with a trembling hand, my father rises. “If something’s broken, you fix it,” he says, his voice reverberating like a clap of thunder. Slamming his palms onto the table, he stares me down. “Do you hear me? Fix it, Cash.”

“Got it, Dad. Loud and clear.”

“MontBlake can’t afford bad publicity, especially so soon after the merger. So make it right.”

My gut is roiling with fury, but I hold it in. Blowing a gasket in front of my father will accomplish nothing. He’s set in his ways more than ever and refuses to address the real problem.

The only thing that needs fixing is the pathetic state of our family.

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