Page 16 of The Single Dad Project

Dirty secrets. Yeah, they might be that to each other, and the flex of his dick behind his zipper telegraphed he had no problem with it.

“It’s a beautiful town, but no different from others I’ve been in,” he said, his tone carefully neutral, not betraying the pull in his gut or the slight elevation of his pulse at the intrusion of the other night’s memory. Swiftly, he replaced the used pod with another and the full mug with an empty one. “And just like those, I’m sure a hub of Hydra isn’t using it as a front for global destruction.”

“How you know?” She stretched her hands out to him as he approached her with the coffee-filled cup. Nearly snatching it from him, she took a sip with an appreciative hum. “I mean, it’s not like you’d know if their agents were up to no good until it was too late. One moment you’re looking at crown molding andbam, the next you’re kidnapped to construct a Victorian-style bunker for their next nefarious plot for world domination.”

He poked her in the forehead, frowning.

“I know there’s an off button somewhere...” he muttered, then grinned when Adele slapped his hand away. “I hope you don’t get as creative with numbers at that CPA firm as you do with these tangents you go off on. Just say you’re going to miss us and be done with it.”

“Damn right I am,” she grumbled, scowling at him over the cup’s rim. “You keep taking these jobs in Nowheresville, USA, leaving me alone for months at a time with...” She didn’t finish the sentence, but her sigh and eye roll completed the thought as if she’d yelled it through a megaphone.

“Right.” His lips curled, but he knew it didn’t resemble a smile. He hadn’t smiled around his father for more years than he could remember. “How is Maurice?”

He hadn’t been “Dad” in more years than he could remember, either.

“Dad is—” another sigh “—Dad. Difficult. Mad at the world. Always right.”

Adam snorted. “And the new stepmother?” he asked, but more out of consideration for Adele, who actually seemed to care for their father.

Adam didn’t really give a damn. After wife number four, he’d stopped learning their names. None of them ever stuck around for very long.

His father possessed the singular talent of running the women who loved him away. Sour acid swilled in his stomach. Like father, like son. Adam had inherited that “gift.”

Turning on his heel, he headed back to the kitchen and the cup waiting for him. Anger and another emotion that trudged too close to fear trickled through him. The coffee wouldn’t sit well right about now, but he needed something to do with his hands. And his face. Adele, who knew him better than any other person, would glimpse the emotion churning through him. And he damn sure didn’t feel like having that conversation.

“Firmly entrenched in ‘I’d love to heal the relationship between your dad and his kids’ mode.” Adele scoffed. “Why does every wife default to that? I had to tell her straight up that many women have tried and failed before her. She isn’t listening, though. So if you get a call with a 312 area code, avoid it. Maybe she thinks because she’s wife number seven, she’s lucky or something.”

Ahh. Number seven.

“She’ll lose that optimism soon enough.” Adam picked up his cup, and only when he felt like he’d wiped all emotion from his face did he turn around to meet his sister’s steady gaze. “They always do.”

“Speaking of wives...” Adele tipped her head to the side. Andoh shit. He recognized the gleam in her eyes. “When was the last time you heard from Jennifer?”

Instinctively, he glanced toward the hallway, but only the sound of Justine’s bright chatter reached him. From experience, he assumed she was “talking” to her dolls. Still, he crossed the room again, circling the couch to sit on the other end. Though his feelings about his ex-wife veered toward frustration, Justine adored her mother. Missed her, was confused about why she didn’t live with them anymore, but still, adored her. He wouldn’t do anything, including letting her overhear his comments, to change that.

“It’s been a little over three months.” He huffed out a short, bitter laugh. “She didn’t even call on her birthday, Addie. Her daughter’s birthday. When Ifinallygot in touch with her three days later, do you know what her excuse was?”

“I’m afraid to ask,” Adele murmured.

“She’d gone camping in Joshua Tree National Park so her cell reception was bad.” Anger flashed inside him, and just as quickly, he snuffed it out. Being mad didn’t serve a damn thing. Hadn’t saved his marriage. Didn’t make his ex want to be a better mother—hell, a present mother—to their daughter. Just...pointless. “What responsible mother thinks it’s okay to not give their only daughter one call on her birthday? Hell, what mother thinks it’s okay to go days without cell reception? What if something had happened to Jussy? What if she’d fallen sick? There would’ve been no way to get in touch with Jennifer because she was off on another of her ‘I’m finding myself’ expeditions. I don’t fucking get it,” he ground out.

Him, he didn’t care about her walking away from. But Jussy? No matter which way he analyzed it, he couldn’t understand that.

“What kind of mother thinks that’s okay? One who doesn’t deserve the name. If anyone knows that, you and I do.”

He nodded, frowning down into his coffee cup as if the dark brew would dole up answers. But just as he hadn’t comprehended how his mother could abandon him and never contact him again, he couldn’t grasp his wife’s behavior. And no amount of coffee would help him figure it out.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Adele quietly said, drawing his attention back to her. “Dad had a health scare about a month back. After a routine doctor’s office visit, he ended up getting a biopsy done on a tumor in his neck.”

“What?” he demanded. “I was in Chicago then. No one said anything to me about this.”

She shrugged a shoulder, but didn’t meet his eyes. “He ordered us...not to. He didn’t want—”

“Please.” He shot up a hand, halting the excuse about to come out of her mouth. “Don’t bother making up an excuse for him. We’re so far past that.”

Her shoulders slumped as if a weight dropped down on them. “You’re right. Still, I’m sorry,” she whispered, finally looking at him. Regret swam in eyes the same color as his, both an inheritance from their father. “It was ultimately benign so everything’s okay there, but I thought you should know. I mean, he’s an ass most of the time but he’s still our dad. You should’ve known weeks ago.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

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