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Once inside, I stop. “I can’t believe an asshole like you would have such a beautiful place.” His hand drops from mine when I see the first picture hanging on the wall. “You all look so happy,” I say, smiling at the photograph of him and his family.
“We were. Or so I believed.”
“She’s beautiful, your mother.”
His lip turns up. “She’s selfish,” is all he replies.
“You were close to your father, but not her?”
Whiskey doesn’t tell me much, and to be honest, I never really cared to ask. But I can see this place is truly his, compared to the one I’m currently staying in.
“Yes, she was an unnecessary evil.”
“Did he remarry?”
“No, he loved her to his dying breath. The damn idiot.” He shakes his head. “This was his place, now it’s mine.”
“Why the other place?”
“I bought it after I met you.”
“With the intention of me living there?” I ask.
“Yes. You needed somewhere where it wasn’t in my personal space.”
“You put me in the same room as you,” I say defensively.
He shrugs. “I like the way you smell.”
My mouth falls open and my nose turns up. “You didn’t just say that.”
Whiskey’s eyes roam over me. “I didn’t say what smell.” He wiggles his eyebrows. Then he walks off. I follow him through the dark hallway that leads to a gleaming white kitchen with stainless steel appliances. Two stools sit on one side of the kitchen counter.
Whiskey heads to the fridge and pulls out a beer. “Are you avoiding drinking around me still, or would you like one?”
I haven’t had a drink in months, avoiding it has been necessary after what happened last time. After all, I am still paying for that gigantic mistake.
“Are you planning on recording me again?” I ask.
“No. The only cameras in here are the ones at the entry. Unless you want to stand in the entry and strip…” he raises an eyebrow in question, “… then no. But I wouldn’t mind a strip show… for my eyes only.”
With a sigh, I walk over and take the beer from his hand then sit on the stool.
“That’s my girl.”
“I’m not your damn girl.”
“Your ring and last name tell me otherwise.”
“I didn’t change it.”
“But you did on Facebook.”
“Yes, because that’s what matters,” I say with an eye roll and sarcasm dripping from my words.
“To your father, it does.”
I take a sip of the beer, it tastes good. I’ve missed the bitter taste. “Why am I here, Whiskey?”
