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Fiona
My hands shake as I sit in the plastic chair across from my father’s desk, staring at the large family portrait hanging between the built-in bookshelves on the wall.
It’s the five of us on an Easter Sunday years ago; my mother and I are wearing matching pink hats with a white tulle bow while the guys have pink ties, because it’d been my year to pick the color.
There are dozens of the same photos buried in albums in our attic, photos no one’s touched since Murphy’s death. It’s easier to ignore your ghosts when you’re not constantly being reminded that they exist in the first place.
Checking my phone, I clear the group messages from Heidi and Bea, not really in the mood to talk, and watch the clock as it inches another minute forward, apprehension spiking along with it. I’ve been waiting fifteen minutes now, and I’m starting to wonder if I should’ve come here at all.
I don’t know what excuses my father might have for cheating on my mother, but I’m also not sure they’ll matter.
A betrayal is a betrayal, even when it’s dressed in good intentions.
I’m two seconds from getting up to leave when the door swings open and my father strolls in, a paper bag from Opulence and two Styrofoam cups in hand. He sets them on his desk and drops into his chair, not meeting my gaze as he begins pulling out individually wrapped items.
Sliding one across the desk to me, he nods. “Portobello burger with Swiss and pickles.”
“My favorite,” I mutter, stomach growling as the savory scent hits me. When he places a carton of curly fries next to the burger, my eyes narrow. “Are you trying to buy my silence with good food?”
He pauses, setting his burger down in front of his keyboard. “No, I just thought we could eat lunch. Typically, it’s your mother and I up here while you sit in the corner or run off to fraternize with my best employee.”
Mortification sears my cheeks, and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Fiona, our walls are not soundproof.” Unwrapping his burger, he tucks a paper napkin into his collar and sinks his fingers into the bun, taking a bite. “Not to mention, I’ve caught him sneaking in and out on the security cameras on numerous occasions over the last few weeks.”
The comment reminds me why I’m here in the first place, bursting the bubble created by the food. “Well, I’m not here to talk about that.”
Sighing, he chews another bite, glancing around the room with a thoughtful expression. “No, I suppose you’re not. As your father, I do want to ask, though... how serious is it between you two?”
“Really, Dad? How serious is it between you and your little office slut?”
“Not at all, which is why I need to know. Is this a fling for you, or something more?”
Gritting my teeth, I bite into my burger, chewing slowly to buy myself some time, because I’m not exactly sure how to answer him.
Part of me wants it to be serious. Wants something concrete to form between Boyd and me, something that changes us for the better.
But the other, more prominent part is terrified of what he’s hiding. Afraid that whatever haunts Boyd Kelly would ruin any relationship. Outside of the lust, I can feel my heart being drawn toward him more and more each day, but there’s also something holding me back.
Maybe it’s the way he claimed me the other night, the intensity behind his dominance, veiled as a way to help me out of my problems.
The sense that he’s only using me to ignore his own is something I just can’t shake.
“I don’t know,” I say around bits of burger and mushroom, swallowing. “What do you mean your affair isn’t serious? You’re cheating on Mom with someone who doesn’t even mean something to you?”
“Yes.”
Blinking at his unabashed response, I set my burger down as he slides a Styrofoam cup my way. Gripping the sides, I bring the straw to my mouth, practically melting as the sweet, chocolatey frozen dessert hits my tongue, cooling me down. “I just feel like that makes everything worse.”
He finishes his food before continuing, disposing of his wrappers in the trash can below his desk, sipping on his shake as he leans back in his chair, studying me. My face grows warm the longer he stares, the realization at how long it’s been since I had a real conversation with him settling like wet cement over me.
I guess when you’re trying to prove your worth beyond what everyone expects because of your last name, certain relationships suffer.
“I fell in love with your mother the moment I saw her. It was this... immediate, visceral reaction that happened when I turned around in my advanced world history class, a measly freshman in college, and saw her smiling at a note her friend handed to her. It was the first time I realized what it felt like to have your heart beat outside your body.
“She didn’t want anything to do with me, romantically, at first. Had a boyfriend, but was one of those people who collected friendships like they were special coins. So, I became her friend, and the rest... well, that’s sort of history now. Besides, you know the story of how we got together.”
Nodding, I suck on my shake, waiting.
