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“Yes, yes, his bank account is very charming,” my dad grumbles. He looks at me. “But whymarriage? After your last one ended, I thought...” Then his expression clears. “Oh, I see, you’re trying to expand the board by adding another vote you can control. Very clever.”
I keep my expression bland. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The waiter shows up at our table. “Can I get you all started on some drinks?”
“Please,” Amelia says, with a faint air of desperation.
My dad orders a martini, I get whiskey, and Amelia orders a glass of wine. I upgrade her order to a whole bottle.
She’s going to need it to get through a dinner with me and my dad.
My dad looks back and forth between me and Amelia. “This can’t be real.”
“I know, right?” Amelia gushes, purposely misinterpreting my dad’s words. “How often do you get a second chance with the love of your life?”
Something like pain flashes across his face, and he instinctively touches the place where his own wedding ring used to be. Like he thinks he has the right to regret how his marriage ended.
I refuse to feel sorry for him. He chose gambling over us.
And yes, I know addiction is a sickness. I know it’s not black and white. I know sometimes addicts need to hit rock bottom before they can find the strength to get help and change their behavior.
But the truth is, the threat of losing his wife and son wasn’t even my dad’s rock bottom. No, his rock bottom was all but driving the company into the ground. That’s the thing that made him change.
I think of that old cliche about people telling the truth when they’re drunk. For my dad, he showed the truth about what mattered most to him every time he sat down to gamble. And in the end, it wasn’t me or my mom.
If he’s gambling again like my assistant said, making business deals to buy failing companies just because he lost at cards...
I grit my jaw, determined. I’m not letting his gambling destroy my life again. Even if it means I need to fake a damn engagement.
“This is real,” I tell my dad. My voice is quiet, and deadly serious. “I suggest you start showingmy fiancéethe respect she deserves if you want an invitation to the wedding.”
I thought lying would be harder. But the wordsmy fiancéefeel right in my mouth. Like of course that’s what Amelia is. My fiancée.
Amelia touches my arm, trying to calm me down. “Cole, it’s fine.”
Now she reallyisplaying the role of good little fiancée. I lost count of the times my ex-wife Bridget tried to break up fights between me and my dad, by telling me my dad meant well and he wasn’t trying to upset me. Those well-meaning lies had just made me more furious.
But Amelia doesn’t say any of that. Instead, her hand finds my chin, gently forcing me to meet her eyes.
“I’mfine,” Amelia says, and that does calm me down. My dad can’t hurt Amelia’s feelings because she doesn’t care what he thinks. We’re not actually getting married. She’s not actually going to be his daughter-in-law.
Soon enough, these dinners will just be me and him.
I don’t know why that feels like a loss.
The waiter arrives with our drinks, and we all take the moment to avoid talking to each other. Like athletes when the ref has called a timeout.
My dad’s the one to break the silence. But this time instead of addressing me, he switches his focus to Amelia.
“So, Miss...” he trails off, clearly having forgotten her name.
“Amelia,” I grit out. “Amelia Maguire.”You asshole, I add silently.
“Amelia Maguire,” my dad repeats. “Obviously I can see what my son sees in you. You’re a lovely girl.” He gives her his best charming salesman smile. It would be more effective if he hadn’t just spent the last fifteen minutes implying I’m only marrying her for a board vote.
“But you’re soyoung. You’re just starting out on your own career. Are you really ready to settle for the kind of life he’s offering?”
“I’ve seen his apartment,” Amelia says, with just a touch of acid underneath the sweetness. “I think I can suffer through the life he’s offering.”
