And I’d never felt more alone.
Moonlight glowedaround me as I sat in the kitchen staring at a cup of juice. Fucking. Juice. And why had I chosen this to drink instead of something with a bit more bite? Because Harper said I was no better than her father.
I knew it was only said out of anger. Trust me, I got it. I’d babbled off more stupid shit than anyone I knew because I was pissed. But in this case, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was right?
I’d never be the nice guy who sugar coated shit. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if I’d be able to calm down when I fucked her. Not that she seemed to mind. But I could make sure that I maintained as much control over myself as possible. And that meant no more alcohol – which was a lot fucking harder than it should be.
I swallowed down the rest of my G rated apple nectar and cursed the bottle of wine locked in the cabinet above the fridge. How good would that shit taste right now? Every time my hand twitched with need, I reminded myself that what was in that bottle wouldn’t have half the sweet flavor as what was waiting for me upstairs.
“You’re still up?”
The internal groan rolling through my chest threatened to burst out full force when Lou clicked on the light and waltzed in.
“Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“A bright shining light kinda puts a damper on the ‘wallow in one’s misery’ ambiance I was going for.”
Lou braced his forearms on the opposite side of the island and cocked a brow. “Are you okay?”
Was I ever okay?
“I’m fine.”
“You know what they say about the word fine?”
Please enlighten me.
“It’s seldom associated with its true meaning.”
If that wasn’t a statement to make someone shake their head, I didn’t know what was. “As always, you’re a true paragon of information.”
He sighed and pushed off the marble counter to open the fridge. I ran my gaze over the black silk pajamas he was wearing – button up, of course. This was as casual as Louis Kessler got. I suppose it was better than the suit he was always wearing, and the slight mess on the top of his head made me have to suppress a smile. There was only one way a man would get a knot like that in his hair.
“I don’t hate you.”
Lou paused with a bottle of water pressed to his lips. “I know.”
“I’m just…”
“Angry,” he finished.
“Hurt,” I corrected.
“I can see that.” He set his bottle down on the counter and nodded. “But I want you to know something, Mason. You were never not my son. Never. I don’t care how you came into this world, you were always my boy.”
That was a nice idea, and he may say that now, but, “How old was I when you found out?”
“I knew before you were born.”
What? If he knew I wasn’t his, why did he let my mother have me?
“As I said,” his dark eyes met mine. “You were always my boy.”
I wasn’t really sure how to respond to that. Honestly, I thought my DNA was something he figured out when I was like five and he was attached already. It had never occurred to me that he knew before I took my first breath. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The information that man knew astounded even Micha.
“So no more of this ‘I’m not your son’ bullshit.”
“Alright,” I rolled my eyes and mockingly sang, “Dad.”
