Page 37 of Sexting My Ex’s Dad

“That never stopped Nate.”

“No,” I reply quietly. “But I’m not Nate.”

That earns a small, surprised laugh.

Athena leans back in the booth and studies me like she’s seeing something new.

“So what happens now,” she asks.

I glance at the phone again, at the message still sitting there like a bad smell. Then I look back at her.

“What happens now,” I say slowly, “is that you stop letting a man like that decide your worth.”

“That’s a very noble speech.”

“It’s also true.”

She tilts her head. “And you’re offering…what exactly?”

I don’t answer immediately.

Because the truth is complicated.

Because part of me still sees the ten-year-old boy in that photograph on my desk, the one who looked up at me like I hung the moon.

Because another part of me has spent years watching Athena walk through hospital corridors and wishing I could touch her.

Being a father and being a man are colliding in ways I don’t enjoy.

But the text on that phone makes something very clear.

My son has already made his choice.

I reach across the table and gently turn the phone face down.

“Athena,” I say quietly, “you deserve better than that.”

She watches me carefully. “And you’re volunteering.”

“I am.”

Her brow lifts slightly. “That’s incredibly bold.”

“Life is short.”

“You’re quoting philosophy now.”

“I’m stating facts.”

She studies me another second, then a slow smile spreads across her face. “You realize this will cause a scandal.”

“I’m aware.”

“You could lose your position.”

“That’s unlikely.”

“You’re very confident.”