“Hey, Dad,” Rhett says roughly. “Why are you in your underwear by the fire?”
Before I can come up with a reasonable excuse, he staggers over to me and plops down on the blanket beside me. He reeks of alcohol.
“Where have you been? And please tell me you didn’t drive.”
He playfully punches my arm but he’s athletic and it kind of fucking hurts. I grunt but wait with an arched eyebrow for my answer.
“Dude,” he slurs. “I got a ride home. All good.”
“Glad to hear that. Have you been making good decisions?”
It feels hypocritical to even ask him such a thing. I’m the worst decision maker in this house presently.
“I dunno.” He swipes his hand down over his face and sighs. “Sometimes I fuck up, Dad.”
This statement makes my gut clench. At least my boner has subsided now that I don’t have my stepdaughter rubbing her pussy all over it.
“How?”
“Dunno.” He shrugs. “I just make stupid mistakes when it comes to women.”
So, it’s a Monahan problem I’ve passed on to my son. Fucking great.
“Preaching to the choir, Rhett. Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” He turns his half-lidded eyes on me and grins. “Were you and the wifey having sexy times? Did I interrupt?”
It’s obvious I wasn’t here alone since there are two mugs, but I was hoping he’d be drunk enough not to notice.
“Bit more complicated than that. We can grab lunch or something tomorrow and talk. When you’re not about to pass out.”
He clumsily fist bumps me like that’s a great idea and I’m thankful. I don’t want to have this conversation with my drunk son. However, I do want to confide in him. Maybe hearing my stupid shit will help him feel better about his own.
“Rhett,” I call out when he’s almost to the steps.
“Mmm?”
“I love you, kiddo.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
As my mind drifts back to Mei, I can’t help but be saddened. Her mother doesn’t give her the affection and attention I give my children.
I would go hug her again if I trusted myself not to take off the rest of her clothes.
And I do not trust myself.
Chapter 8
Mei
I’ve been rejected. Again.
Okay, so maybe that’s a little dramatic, but it certainly feels that way. Owen doesn’t have a cruel bone in his body, however, his avoidance after last night hurts.
It really, really hurts.
His smiles this morning for his children and Penny are real and genuine. He has trouble looking at me, though. Shame contorts his features into something unrecognizable anytime our eyes meet. The man wears his emotions for all to read and he’s struggling with what happened.
