Page 102 of His Temporary Assistant

Until I thought of him cheating on my mother—and denigrating Ryan. Neither of those things could stand. My silence might as well have been agreement.

“When did you stop loving Mom?” I asked quietly.

“I didn’t,” he said after a long moment. “We love each other, son. We just aren’t in love. I don’t know if we ever were.” He let out another short laugh, this one far darker. “What is love anyway? Some romantic notion in the books. It’s not real. It’s not worth ruining your life.”

I swallowed hard, thinking of the feel of Ryan’s skin under my fingertips. So soft and vulnerable, with that strength beneath that was both enviable and scary as hell. “It’s everything.”

“We’re happy enough,” my father went on as if I’d never spoken. “She lives her life, I live mine. I take care of her very well. She wants for nothing.”

“Except your love and fidelity.”

“If you asked her, she’d tell you she was happy,” he insisted.

Since I knew she’d done that very thing, I said nothing. How could she be happy when her husband wasn’t faithful to her? Money was a poor substitute for a true companion who adored you as much as you adored them.

Not that I knew what that was like. I didn’t. My longest relationship had lasted perhaps half a year. We hadn’t been in love, just serious like. She’d dumped me when she fell for her polo instructor, a fact I’d found mystifying. The falling in love part, not that she’d developed a particular fondness for polo.

But over the past couple of weeks, I’d started to question things. To wonder if maybe I could have that too.

If I even had any choice in the matter.

A sex hex wasn’t to blame, but something much more elemental. I’d never believed in love at first…email before, but I had to say, I was beginning to. And being with Ryan had only sharpened my hunger for her.

Would that still be the case next week, next month, next year? Hell, sixty years from now? Once, I would’ve said of course not. Now everything was in flux.

Especially me.

I sagged into the chair opposite my father’s desk. “Are you happy?” I asked finally when the silence between us grew too deep.

He didn’t answer for a long time. “Why does it matter?”

I simply shut my eyes.

My father let out a frustrated breath. “What the hell is going on with you? This isn’t you. You don’t behave like this.” Then after a moment, he made a sound that verged on a growl. “Let me guess.”

“Don’t.”

But he was on a tear. “Not since you were caught in that fountain with that ridiculous girl have you acted so erratically.”

“Yeah, and that was probably the last time I was truly happy.” What a sobering realization that was.

“So what? Do you think we all dance through life every day? No. We handle our responsibilities and take advantage of the perks we’re offered—”

“Like your secretary, right? Was she one of your perks?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“No. She’s not a goddamn perk. I wouldn’t be surprised if she never let me touch her again, and you know what? She’s probably right. I’m not worthy of her. I haven’t lived the way I truly want to for so long that I don’t even know what it would look like. It’s a fucking miracle my dick still works.”

At my father’s shocked expression, I gritted my teeth. So, I probably could’ve stopped before saying that. Honesty didn’t mean a need for family therapy sessions.

But we did need one. All of us. Probably even Mr. Happy Go Lucky Dexter, though he was seeming wiser all the time. He understood he couldn’t put his real life on pause, because the world didn’t stop. I didn’t want to look back and realize my best years had passed me by and for what? I had enough money.

What I di

dn’t have was fun. And pleasure. And freedom.

And if I was truly being honest, love. A home with someone I could build a life with. I hated coming home alone, but maybe I didn’t have to.

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