I’d know that voice anywhere.
Keeley gapes at the door. Dread fills my belly before it drops to my toes in a sickening rush.
“Is that…” She frowns as if she can’t quite believe what her ears are telling her.
She’s about to see me at my very worst. No way she’ll ever love me after this. And there’s not a fucking thing I can do but watch my demise happen.
“Yeah.” Fucking son of a bitch. “That’s my dad.”
With a curse, I pull away from Keeley. “This will probably be ugly. Go to the guest room and shut the door. If Dad has come all the way from San Diego unexpectedly, this won’t be good.”
She pauses, and I expect her to run to the safety of the bedroom. After all, he’s already shown his usual charming stripes. To my surprise, she shakes her head. “I may be mad as hell at you right now, but from the sound of things, you’ll need a friend.”
She’s right, and that something soft lurches in my chest again, as if it can get closer to her. I would love to have her hold my hand while my dad, just by being himself, drives me crazy. But my need to protect Keeley is stronger. I can already guess how her interaction with my father will go, and I want to spare her. “I would feel better if you didn’t get in his path. Please.”
A million reasons crowd my head but Dad starts pounding again. I don’t really have time to relay all the terrible crap between me and this man. It’s impossible for her to understand the decades of our complicated relationship, even if she saw each moment in real time, much less to blurb it in ten seconds.
Keeley looks as if she’s going to resist, and I grab her hands. “Please. I promise I’ll get through it. After a lifetime with him, I’m a pro. If he pisses me off, I’ll come talk to you afterward. He’ll want privacy. If he doesn’t get it, he’ll be an even bigger asshole. Go.”
When I nudge her toward the guest bedroom, she drags her feet a bit but finally nods. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
I nod her way, then when she’s safely ensconced in her room, I slump toward the front door. Dread is digging a hole in my stomach as I turn the lock. I haven’t clapped eyes on my father in over three years. Hell, I’ve barely talked to him. But he’s come from San Diego on the spur of the moment and insists on seeing me. Every moment I keep him outside is just another moment for him to get more irritated.
Knowing I can’t put it off anymore, I wrench the door open and step back to admit him. Damn, he’s aged. Before he left Maui, his hair was still salt and peppery. Now he’s completely silver, even his beard. He sporting a summer tan in early February, which tells me he hasn’t stopped being a regular at a tanning booth. He’s fit, as always. But his shoulders are slightly slumped. His jawline isn’t as firm as it once was. He’s wearing glasses now—a weakness I never thought he’d bow to. He’ll turn sixty-two this year, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that time has changed him. He no longer appears invincible. When I was a kid, my dad was always larger than life to me, and seeing him look more like an old man is a shock.
“Hey, Dad,” I finally manage to say.
He scowls at me—nothing new—as he barges inside, dragging a huge suitcase on wheels behind him. His overstuffed briefcase dangles from one big hand. “Took you long enough. What are you doing, jacking off?”
“No. Nothing you’d care about. Welcome to Maui. This is unexpected. Does your sudden visit have something to do with Mom leaving?”
“Your mother, that ungrateful bitch,” he huffs, then plops himself on the couch. “I fed, clothed, and supported her for thirty-five years. I bought her a lavish house, took her on extravagant vacations all over the world, gave her designer everything. She had two responsibilities. Two. Throw good parties—something she’s never managed without a caterer—and to give me a good-looking family for corporate Christmas cards. You and Griff were exactly what I had in mind, but she had to get knocked up a third time.”
I want to butt in that it takes two to conceive, but clearly he thinks the responsibility for not getting pregnant rested solely on my mother, never mind that he’s both the aggressor and the one with the sperm. What a dick.
He hasn’t changed a bit.
“But fine. Whatever.” Dad tosses a hand in the air. “Harlow was a cute kid. Her fucking wedding is going to cost me a fortune. But Linda couldn’t even manage to raise you kids while I worked my ass off without constantly wanting my input or for me to straighten you boys out. How fucking hard is it to change a few diapers and drive someone to soccer practice?”
My father gives me a disgusted sneer. I can’t imagine why I’m stunned. He’s never hidden the fact that he wants nothing to do with his kids. Playing the family man gave him good corporate optics at a time that shit mattered. He’s good at his job. Great, even. He should be since he’s a workaholic. He has no friends and doesn’t value his family. With every passing year, he’s grown more cynical and bitter.
I can’t stand him.
Even as I’m staring at him, thinking what a grade-A asshole he is and that I shouldn’t let him upset me, the fact that I was nothing more to him than a clean-cut face on a card sent to his associates once a year cuts me deep. Maybe it bothers me so much now because I’m already agitated by the kiss Keeley shared with Griff. I’m fucking bleeding inside at the thought. I don’t need my father’s attitude right now.
“Have you gone mute?” my father hisses, then rakes a hand through his hair. “Jesus, I gave you good genes to work with. Your mother was a beauty queen with half a brain. I’m a self-made billionaire. What’s your problem?”
“It’s just been a long day and I wasn’t expecting you,” I bite out. “So Mom has never been all you want her to be and…what else?”
“She left me. Me. Are you fucking kidding? What did I not give that bitch? My thirty-five best years, a fortune—”
“You didn’t give her love,” I cut in, vaguely aware that I’m sounding like Keeley. Then I swallow because I know Dad won’t understand a word I’ve just said. The shit is about to hit the fan.
“Oh, boo hoo. I knew I shouldn’t have left you here when I moved back to San Diego. Apparently, you’ve grown a vagina since then. You know love is all greeting-card crap.”