“I will.” I plant one last kiss on her forehead, and slip quietly out the front door.
The drive back to mine gives me plenty of time to agonise over what an arsehole I am. What have I done? It was one thing to look after her, to cook for her, even to kiss her, because there was still a way back from that.
There was no coming back from getting to my knees and eating my daughter-in-law’s cunt before fucking her on her kitchen counter.
The worst part of it is that I still don’t regret it. Not even a little.
And I’m not sure what that makes me.
Now Archie’s gone off the rails at Jordan Sumner of all people. I shake my head, running my hands across my mouth. If Archie’s going to go off at Jordan like that, what the hell is he going to do when he finds out about me and Mia?
What a fucking mess.
I’m barely dry from my shower when my phone rings again, and it’s Andrea.
I ignore it. I’m not having another pointless conversation with my ex about our adult son. She can take it up with him.
Barry lives barely a ten minute drive from my place, but it’s enough time to convince myself that somehow I’ve got the wordGuiltytattooed on my forehead. I adjust the turtleneck jumper I’m wearing to hide the love bite Mia left on my neck. The thought of her teeth sinking into my flesh, her mouth sucking on my-
Stop it right now.
Wrong thoughts, bad thoughts. Not what I should be thinking when I’m on the way to give my son a bollocking.
Barry opens the door for me with an irritated look on his face.
“Morning, Dominic.” He gives me a nod and steps aside to let me in. “He’s out the back in the sunroom.”
“In fine form?”
“Oh, always.” Barry hangs back when we reach the kitchen. “I’ll leave you both to it. Fancy a coffee?”
“Sure,” I reply over my shoulder, and push through the double French doors to the sunroom.
Archie’s pacing back and forth at the end of the room like a caged animal. His hair’s been cut, some strange, trendy undercut style that makes no sense to me. He’s sporting stubble which is unlike him. His mouth pinches, his brows drawn down, his hands in constant motion as he fiddles with his fingernails. He looks so much like his mother like this, fury twisting his features.
His raging movement stops as the door falls closed behind me. He sets his jaw, nodding as he looks me up and down.
“Feels like I’ve had the headmaster called on me,” he says with a sneer. “I’m surprised that cowardly little fuck Sumner didn’t call you instead of Barry.”
“He knows Barry wouldn’t give you a walloping.”
Archie laughs. “That’s true.”
I put my hands in my pockets and fix him with a stern stare. “Where the fuck have you been?”
Archie shrugs, turning away from me to look at the window at the sky, the colours changing as the sun slowly rises. “You know, being your son was a blessing and a curse.”
“I can relate to that. Being Billy Boy Graves’ son was… a challenge at times.”
“Yeah, but it was all different back then, wasn’t it?” Archie turns back to face me. “And you loved it. You loved the club, and the name, and the fame. That’s why you weren’t around when I was little.” He shrugs. “Were you? You were never there. Too busy being Dominic Belter Graves.”
I sigh heavily. “I know I made mistakes when you were a kid, I’ve never pretended otherwise. And I’m sorry. But all of that doesn’t excuse this.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No.” My voice drops low, and Archie crooks an eyebrow at my tone. “You’re thirty years old, and there comes a time when we have to stop blaming our parents for our bad behaviour. It’s yourchoice now. Whatever I did, however I let you down, because I was young and stupid and unhappy in my marriage, that’s all not your fault, but it’s also not an excuse.”
Archie narrows his eyes and grins. “Becoming all philosophical in your old age, ey?”
