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I take another sip of whiskey, appreciating the subtle burn down the back of my throat. No one warned me that this single parent shit would be so difficult. My ex-wife and I divorced about ten years ago, and while I love being a father, it’s certainly had its ups and downs. One of the ups, though, has been Lucy coming into our lives.
But will I ever see her again? The situation is a little charged, seeing that she just broke up with my son. Now, it’s even more tangled because she just witnessed my romp in the hay with the escort.
As the whiskey settles into my stomach, my thoughts drift to the curvaceous young lady who slipped into my home earlier today. My attraction to Lucy doesn’t mean anything, even if it’s a bit taboo. I certainly don’t entertain any possibilities of having a relationship with her because why would she be interested in an old coot like me? Sure, I’m handsome and rich, but let’s face it: I’m her boyfriend’s father. She’s probably got her eye on the hot jock at school, and not the older man who happens to be his dad.
Every now and then, though, I can’t resist some mild fantasizing. As my eyes close, I imagine what it would be like to be with Lucy. I picture the curvy girl in bed with me, instead of Patricia. Lucy’s slowly taking off her clothes, revealing her delicious assets, her creamy pale skin flushing with shyness. I would be gentle with her, not rushing anything, just enjoying her until she’s ready.
My vivid fantasy is interrupted by the opening of the front door. I open one eye to see Jasper, red-faced and sweaty, coming inside with his tennis bag slung over one shoulder.
“Welcome home,” I call from the kitchen. Jasper responds with a grunt but doesn’t say anything intelligible. Either practice didn’t go well or he’s in one of his moods.
He slouches into the kitchen to refill his water bottle. “How was practice?” I ask.
“Fine,” he responds without looking at me. I roll my eyes heavenward. Definitely a mood, given his mono-syllabic response.
Before my son stomps upstairs, though, he looks back at me. “What are you doing home so early?”
Getting spied on by your ex-girlfriend, I think. Well, I’ll keep that information to myself.
“I had a long week,” I say, gesturing to my now-empty glass. “So I wrapped things up and headed home as quickly as I could.”
Jasper eyes my glass and the bottle of whiskey. “Can I have some of that?”
I snort. “Did you turn twenty-one without me noticing?”
He sighs. “Never mind. I’ve just had a long week, too.”
I nod knowingly. I’ve never cheated on anyone, girlfriend or wife, but I can imagine that it does a number on your conscience afterward. Unfortunately, I don’t have much sympathy for my son in this situation either. It was a conscious, idiotic choice he made, but I can tell that Jasper’s down. I wish I could help and am honestly not quite sure how.
“Come sit and chat with me for a minute,” I say, “and maybe I’ll pour a finger or two for you.”
My son offers a halfhearted grin at that and, setting his bag down, pulls up another chair at the kitchen table and perches gingerly. Immediately, he puts his head in his hands.
“I feel like shit,” he confesses without my prompting. I had a feeling he needed someone to listen to him vent, so I shut up and pour the alcohol. “I feel horrible for what I did to Lucy, but I really like Celine, too. I just wish I didn’t have to choose.”
“Don’t tell me you’re considering polyamory,” I drawl, and he rolls his eyes.
“Celine is just so sexy,” he sighs.
“You don’t think Lucy is, too?” I ask, phrasing it carefully as to not inform him that I think she is. My son frowns.
“No, she is,” he says. “I’m really attracted to her too, and I miss her so much. Celine is just…” He looks suddenly embarrassed, as if he just remembered that he’s talking to his dad and not a friend. “Just more, well, adventurous.”
I quirk a brow while trying not to smile into my whiskey glass. Jasper is such a typical teenage boy and clearly, he can’t get off the idea of anal.
“‘Adventurous’ isn’t the only quality in a partner you should be looking for,” I say in a mild tone.
Jasper shakes his head as I watch a cloud pass over his expression. “I know, I know. Whatever. I actually don’t really want to talk about it. Keep the whiskey.”
As he stands up, his gaze lands on the cardboard box at the end of the table. “What’s that?” he asks.
“For you, actually,” I say, as he starts to dig through it. “I think Lucy dropped off some of your stuff.”
