“You usually have one.”
He shrugged. “Fair enough. I’m passing through on my way back to Denver. Thought I’d stop and catch up.”
“Passing through from where?”
“Seattle. Had some business up there.” He waved a hand vaguely. “You know how it is.”
I didn’t, actually. My father’s “business” had always been nebulous at best—a series of ventures and investments that seemed to keep him perpetually in motion without ever settling anywhere for long.
“How’s Margaret?”
The name made him pause. Margaret had been hisgirlfriend the last time we’d texted—some corporate lawyer he’d met at a conference. He’d mentioned her twice, which for him was practically a declaration of commitment.
“Who?”
“Margaret. The lawyer you said you were dating when you texted me last month.”
“Oh, right. That didn’t work out.” He said it casually, like he was discussing a car he’d traded in. “She wanted things I couldn’t give her.”
Things like faithfulness, no doubt, I thought bitterly.
“Anyone new?”
He shrugged. “A few. Nothing serious. You know me—I’m not built for serious.” He laughed, and the sound grated against my nerves. “Speaking of which, how about you? Any girls catching your eye?”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was probably Ava. If I told him about her, he’d want to meet her—even though he’d met her when we were kids—and I felt the urge to keep him as far away from her as possible.
“Not really,” I lied because it seemed better than exposing Ava to him.
“That’s my boy.” He raised the whiskey the waitress had just delivered, clinking it against my water glass. “Keep your options open. Trust me, the second you let yourself get tied down is the second you start suffocating. Men like us—” He gestured between us, that familiar phrase hanging in the air. “We’re not meant to be caged.”
My stomach turned.
Men like us.
Like it was some kind of brotherhood. Like infidelity was encoded in our DNA right alongside dark brown hair and green eyes.
We ordered steaks, because that’s what my fatheralways ordered, and he spent the next twenty minutes regaling me with stories from his travels. The poker game in Vegas. The yacht party in Miami. The “friend” in Seattle who’d put him up for a few weeks.
I barely listened. I was too busy watching.
Watching the way his eyes tracked the blonde waitress every time she passed. The way he leaned in when she refilled his water, making some comment that made her blush. The way his charm was so effortless, like seduction was just another language he’d learned to speak fluently.
And the worst part was I recognized it.
Because I’d done it myself. For years. Different bar, different girl, same easy smile and meaningless flirtation. I’d told myself it was harmless—that I was nothing like him because I never made promises I couldn’t keep, never let anyone close enough to hurt.
But sitting here, watching him work, I felt sick.
“So,” my father said, cutting into his steak, “you’re a junior now, right? Any idea what you’re doing after graduation?”
“I’m majoring in marketing, so probably something in that field. I’ve got a year and a half to figure it out.”
“Marketing.” He nodded slowly. “Good money in that. Plenty of options.”
“Yeah.”
“Just don’t let yourself get too settled.” He pointed his fork at me. “As soon as you start building a life around something—a career, a place, a person—you lose your freedom. And freedom, son, is the only thing worth having.”
