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It’s time for me to stop playing his games.
“Father. Mother. I’d like you to meet Addison Allison, my girlfriend. Addison, allow me to introduce my parents, Robert and Katrina Kelly.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Kelly. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
My mother stood up, opening her arms with a tight-lipped smile. I kept my hand on the small of Addison’s back as we walked over to greet her. Leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek and accept a stiff hug, I moved to the side as Addison extended her hand, grasping my mother’s daintier one.
“Thank you. So glad you could join us for dinner.”
She clasped her hands together and looked at my father, who kept his eyes focused on the wall, refusing to stand. For someone who had practically begged me not to make this situation worse, he was acting like a spoiled, petulant child. Perhaps the Merrythorpe case wasn’t going well. I hadn’t bothered to follow the news but made a mental note to check the local coverage later. Not that there was any excuse for his behavior, but I’d feel better.
“Of course, you have a beautiful home.”
“Thank you, Addison. Robert, would you like to say something?”
“I would,” he said, finishing the scotch and crunching the ice between his teeth. The silence stretched, and I opened my mouth to bite off a comment when a warm hand grasped mine, and I looked at my father. Really looked. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and the lines surrounding them were deep, making him look like he had spent decades under a heat lamp. There was a tremor in the hand holding his glass, and his shoulders were hunched forward.
The fuck is going on?
“Please sit down so the first course can be served,” he said, motioning with the empty glass to the seat immediately to his left.
Breathe, man. Don’t let her go.
“Thank you, Father,” I said, nodding my head. Addison let go of my hand and moved away, but I grabbed her before she took two steps. “Sit beside me, honey. I’ll get your drink.”
I pressed my lips to her cheek and saw the relief in her eyes as I walked to the other side of the table to fetch her drink before holding her chair for her. When her napkin was tucked on her lap, one hand strayed to my thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“I assume your date doesn’t have any allergies, Simon. We’re starting with Lobster Bisque.”
“No allergies here, sir,” Addison said with a smile before taking a sip of her gimlet and focusing her attention on the other end of the table. Her ability to compartmentalize was a sight to behold. I’d be part way through an insult, but she brushed it off with the flip of her hair and a gentle hand on my thigh. “Bisque sounds delicious. I can see where Simon gets his impeccable style from, and it’s nice to see your color choices extend beyond black.”
The cheeky temptress winked and my mother smiled, letting out a low chuckle.
“His color palette comes from his grandfather, mostly. But even as a child Simon had fantastic taste.”
“I’m sure that also had something to do with the both of you,” Addison said, raising her glass to my mother, who lifted hers in return. “I’m sure you have plenty of photos of him dressed to the nines in adorable chinos and aviators. I’d love to see them, Mrs. Kelly.”
“That sounds lovely. Maybe you’ll join us for brunch one weekend when this silly nonsense with the paper has blown over.”
I bit back a comment, choosing to squeeze Addison’s hand instead.
The chef served the first course, and the aroma drifting across the table made my mouth water. Flavors of tomato, cream, and lobster took me away from how my father’s eyes bored into mine and his disinterest in the conversation.
“Yes, I’m sorry to have dragged Simon into everything. Stacy Carter, unfortunately, has a personal vendetta against me and takes every chance she can get to slander my name.” Addison took her hand from my lap, waiting for my parents to eat before she picked up her spoon.
I was curious to see where this was going. How had I not known about this? Was I so far out of my mind with lust or want or whatever that I didn’t know how the article ended up in the paper to begin with?
“What do you mean, Addison?” my mother asked, taking a spoonful of soup. We all followed, and for a minute, the cliché so silent you could hear a pin drop fit our situation. Only my family could master the art of eating soup silently.
“Several years ago, she accused me of stealing her then-fiancé. The problem was, in a way, I did.”
I looked at Addison in shock, but she kept talking, not breaking eye contact with my mother.
“I had no idea he was engaged, nor would I ever do something so heartless on purpose. I’ve done everything to apologize for what happened and had to resort to suing her for slander after one horrendous article was posted last year. I’ll help however I can to fix this.” She turned to look at my father, who nursed another scotch, finally deciding to meet her eyes.
“I’m not surprised to hear this debacle is completely your fault, Miss Allison, considering how well-known your reputation is. Frankly, I wouldn’t put it past you to have stolen that reporter’s fiancé simply because you were bored, and I’m disgusted you have your hooks in my son. The two of you can stop with this pathetic act. I know you’re not dating. I wouldn’t be surprised if that party was the first time you’d ever met.”
“Robert—”
