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I was my father’s son, in far too many ways to count. So, how did I have the right to question his behavior? I didn’t have an explanation for mine, except ones that cleared my guilty conscience.
“How do you feel about Courtney?” I asked suddenly.
If he’d been any more surprised by my change in direction, he would’ve toppled over. As it was, his dark eyes narrowed as the color slowly returned to his cheeks. “What?”
I repeated the question.
“What business is that of yours?”
“I’m your son,” I said tightly. “I might not be particularly proud of that fact right now, but I am. If you have feelings for her, it’s not an excuse, but it’s not as bad as if you’re just using her. Just using Mom.”
Almost as if it had never existed, his anger drained out of him and he sank into his chair, looking years more exhausted than he had when we entered his office. “Did it ever occur to you they’re using me just as much?”
I refused to believe it. “No. Mom isn’t using you. She loves you.”
“We love each other as friends do, Preston.”
I yanked on the knot in my hastily redone tie. “Explain.”
“This isn’t really appropriate for us to discuss.”
“Right, because it’s appropriate for you to take cheap shots at a woman who’s done nothing to you just because she means something to me.”
“What does she mean? Besides a convenient—”
“Don’t,” I interrupted, shoving my fists into my pockets. It took everything I possessed not to use them. “Don’t even say it. Don’t even think it. Because not only will I quit this godforsaken firm, I’ll walk out the door and never speak to you again.”
He inhaled deeply through his nose. “You don’t even know her.”
“I feel like I do. I feel… Jesus, far too much.”
And I’d never even gotten a chance to ask if she was all right afterward. She’d seemed fine for those brief moments we’d spoken, but maybe I’d missed a cue. I didn’t want her to be alone right now, shoring up her walls to shut me out.
She probably figured I was doing the same.
“Be careful, son.” His voice gentled. “I know we’re at odds right now, but contrary to what you obviously believe, I’ve never wanted anything but the best for you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Then don’t look at me, because I’ve been fucking miserable for years.” When he started to reply, I held up a hand. “I’m not asking for a violin accompaniment, okay? I know I’m lucky that I’ve had this job, that my lifestyle is beyond comfortable. You gave me opportunities my whole life that so many others haven’t had.”
Ryan, riding around in a van with her mother, hadn’t had them. She’d struggled. She hadn’t even told me all the ways she had, but I could see some of what she’d gone through in her eyes. Her bravado draped around her like a cloak. Keeping her safe from those who would make judgments.
Making friends through tarot. Wearing black so she didn’t attract too much attention, although that was impossible. Quietly helping others while claiming she didn’t need any herself.
My first instinct upon learning about her work history had been to look down at her. None of the jobs she’d held were important. She wasn’t suitable for an attorney of my caliber.
What a crock of shit. She’d hugged a woman she didn’t even know, because she was crying and broken-hearted. Her first instinct was to heal, not harm.
And she was the unsuitable one? No, that was me, with my rigid rules and my need for order above all else. Meanwhile, the life was being constricted out of me, day by day.
“Yet you aren’t happy.” My father phrased that as a statement, not a question.
“No.”
“You want to do something other than divorce law.”
“Yes.” I didn’t know how he knew this all of a sudden, but I had to assume Dex was involved. “I want to help people instead of helping them be awful to each other.”
I didn’t expect him to laugh out loud. Or that I could smile too.
