I nod and can only dream that he will stop at one word but know he won’t.
He follows me into the club where I hold up a cup and offer him coffee from behind the bar. I’d prefer something much stronger if I am about to be subjected to a lecture of some kind, but I am hoping to create a good impression.
A nod confirms he’s having coffee and is clearly here for more than just the one word.
With two cups of coffee, I round the bar and take a stool, indicating for Nigel to take one too.
He accepts the drink and fixes me with a stare that I can’t decipher. Silence hangs between us before he finally breaks it.
“You had no right being in my house last night.”
I actually thought we’d discussed this already, just before he made me climb back down that bloody tree.
“As I have already said, I am sorry that I was there without your knowledge, and I am, but there really wasn’t anything untoward going on.”
He scowls at me.
“And whilst I may not have had your permission, it’s not like I broke in.”
His face contorts through a variety of emotions, most of them linked to annoyance. “She’s my daughter. My little girl and I found her draped all over you in her bedroom, in my house.”
I’d like to dispute the description of her draped all over me, if only because he makes it sound sordid. I don’t. I let it go.
“I can appreciate that, but there was something we needed to discuss, and it couldn’t wait til the morning.”
“And what was that?”
“Sorry, Nigel, not to be rude, but that’s none of your business. It’s between me and Anita.”
He offers no protest, but he doesn’t look thrilled.
“You are going to hurt her.”
“I have no intention of hurting her. I love her.”
He looks slightly startled at that revelation.
“That may be so, but it doesn’t mean you won’t hurt her. She’s not like your usual types.”
I can only imagine what he considers my usual type to be.
He continues. “She’s a good girl. Never been the sort to have lots of boyfriends or sleep around.”
He shudders. I nod, confirming what he’s saying, although I would put everything I own on the fact he has no clue about Christian. I shouldn’t have thought about that because now I am fighting against images of him touching her and kissing her and that is without me considering his marriage to my stepsister.
“She’s not like Liv…” his voice trails off and I stare at him, wondering if he has just called his other daughter a slapper and thank all things holy that Mase isn’t here to hear it.
“I don’t think…” I allow my own voice to trail off, wondering just how I am going to deal with this because Liv is many things, none of them a slapper.
“What? No!” He looks alarmed when he figures what I’d taken from his comment. “Livy is a good girl, too, but she wasn’t sheltered and protected like Anita. Liv met bad people…Anita never did.”
I accept what he’s saying and believe completely that his meaning is precisely what he claims it to be.
“When I met Carol, I had lost my own children.”
I say nothing but can see that fact saddens him and makes him feel guilty in equal parts. Part of me wants to point out that he didn’t lose them. He knew exactly where they were, so technically he left them.
“She had three fatherless children and I was a childless father.”
