“Christopher… do you know what you’re doing here, son?” Bob’s voice had dropped the sarcasm. No more snarky tone, no mocking. Chris finally looked at him. “The lady has kids,” Bob continued. “She surely has no room in her life for fleeing fun.”
“I know that,” Chris replied, and I could feel him getting nervous again.
“Bob,” Lisa jumped in. “This is the first lady friend Chris has ever introduced to us. I’m sure she’s not a fling. Look at them.” She threw her arms open, pointing at us. Her smile stretched wide. “They’re clearly in love.”
“Except he didn’t introduce her to us, Lisa,” Bob snapped, his voice rising again. “We broke into his house so you could talk to your son. Can’t you see? He’s never going to grow up.” His tone cut the room open again. Lisa visibly shrank, folded in on herself. Done intervening.
I swear to God, if he saidone more thing.
Then he turned to me. And I welcome it. Because that was my cue.
“You should know this, child,” he said, full of condescension. “You have no future with this one. And it’s your job to protect your children. He could never beat the responsibility of being a father. The man literally kills every plant his mother sends him.” He laughed at his own line, and I braced myself to stand. I was ready. I could feel the words bubbling up.
But Chris stood first. He stepped in front of me, blocking my view. Reflexively, Bob rose to face him. I almost reached for Chris. I wanted to hold him back before he did something impulsive. I could take the hits. But I also knew better than to get in the middle of someone else’s family war. I glanced at Lisa. Her eyes were glassy, brimming with tears that refused to fall. I felt for her. This couldn’t be easy.
It made me want to call my father and apologize.
“If I don’t have what it takes to be a good father, it’s because I had a shitty one to learn from. Now get the fuck out of my house.” Chris didn’t wait for a response. He turnedand walked away. From the hallway, his voice rang out louder. “And leave your keys on the coffee table!”
The door slammed shut. Lisa flinched at the sound.
Silence.
I stood slowly. Lisa followed, pulling her purse open and retrieving the keys. She placed them on the coffee table right in front of us, carefully. My eyes drifted to Bob’s. And God, I wanted to say so much. To be as terrible as he’d been. I knew how. I was good at that kind of damage when I wanted to be. But… I saw something in his face. A flicker. Not guilt, but the kind of regret that comes when you realize a little too late, you’ve gone too far. Said too much. And maybe didn’t even mean to. Yeah. I knew that feeling all too well. So I took a breath and said:
“I feel I have the right to say this. As someone with a son who loves unconventional things, and a father who never supported my dreams either…” His eyes met mine. Focused. Listening. “With our kids, it’s really as simple as this—they’re their own person. They’ll do whattheywant, not whatyouthink is best. And our job, Bob, is actually to support and love them. Unconditionally. It’sthatsimple, sir.”
I gave him a soft smile, then turned to Lisa and offered a nod before heading toward the hallway. But halfway there, I stopped. There was one more thing. I turned back to him.
“And by the way… if you’d seen my kids’ eyes when they’re around Chris, you’d never question whether he could be a good father.”
Then I turned again and walked away.
35
CHRIS
Iwanted to punch a wall. Shatter every ridiculous piece of overpriced decoration around me. My face was burning. My hands clenched at my waist. But I didn't move. I stood there in the middle of the bedroom, eyes shut tight, trying to breathe through it. In. And out. In. And out.
Then I heard the door creak open. I didn't need to look. The scent of chamomile hit me instantly. And like medicine, it calmed my chest more than any breathing exercise ever could. I felt her soft hands gliding up from my lower back to my stomach to my chest. Then her whole body pressed against me from behind, her cheek resting between my shoulder blades. I placed my hands over hers, grounded myself in her, and opened my eyes.
"Are you happy you didn't end up marrying me now?" I joked. "Those would've been your in-laws." Because what the hell else could I say? It had been a shitshow. But not unlike plenty of other moments I'd survived growing up.
She didn't answer right away. She kissed the spot on my back where her cheek had rested.
"I'm so sorry, Chris..."
"Ah..." I forced a shrug. "It's okay. I'm used to it." Even I didn't believe my own voice. I turned around, pulled out my fakest smile to prove I was fine. But she saw right through me. I knew she did. The smile was fake, but what she did for me wasn't. The way she calmed me down without needing to scream or throw something or... pour a drink. That was real. And I didn't know how she did it.
"I'm not just talking about your parents..." she said quietly, her eyes locked on mine. Glassy. Trying to hold back. "I know a thing or two about parents who should've gone to therapy before reproducing." She added, forcing a smirk. I gave her one back.
"I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner..." Her voice cracked, and a single tear slid down. "I'm sorry I left L.A. before we could've found each other." That snapped something in me. No. There was no way in hell I’d let her carry that. My jaw tightened, and my blood boiled thinking of that bastard who had taken so much from her. Not just us, but her fire, her confidence, her voice. I'd read that script. She would've owned the screen. And he stole that from her.
I cupped her face, holding her gently but firmly between my hands. I brushed away that tear with my thumb and made sure she couldn't look away.
"Don't you ever say sorry again," I said, voice low and rough. "It wasn't your fault." The tears came, hers and mine.
"I would've loved meeting the fucked-up thirty-something version of you," she said with a watery laugh. "We could've been so fucking traumatized together." That broke me a little, but I laughed too. "I would've been able to be just yours for a while," she whispered. "And then... we could've healed... and be perfect. So we could be... theirs."
