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“We'll be awaiting your return with bells on,” she said with a warm smile.
Tristan
I was getting angrier and angrier sitting at dinner with my family. If it wasn't for Shiloh, I wouldn't be there. They were laughing and joking like they hadn’t just ruined my life and the lives of Arya and Mason. I knew Ellen was asked to leave the only book club in town, and I was sure it was only a matter of time until my mom targeted the bakery. There was only one thing left to do, and I hoped that Arya would forgive me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, interrupting whatever conversation was going on. I had been lost in my thoughts and had no idea what was being discussed. I threw my napkin down on the table. “This is not right.”
My voice was low, and the anger simmered just below the surface.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” Mom asked me, as if she had no idea. How could she forget?
“What’s wrong?” I said, raising my voice. I took a deep breath to calm myself. “It’s been a few days since our little chat and I hoped–I don’t know why, but I did–that you would make things right.”
I was beyond angry. I was disappointed.
My mom looked at me incredulously and my dad looked confused.
“What do you mean, Tristan?” he asked, frowning.
“Dad, you fired Mason. After everything he has done for the distillery. After you spent years mentoring him. I couldn’t do the same for you, and Mason helped the distillery grow through hard work, dedication, and sacrifice. Everyone here knows your reason was bullshit. He’s my best friend, and I know for a fact he would never do anything to jeopardize his job or disappoint you.”
“You’re being ridiculous, Tristan. There were reasons.” My dad was clearly uncomfortable as he shifted in his chair.
“The reason is you don’t have a backbone and you don’t stand up to Mom.”
My dad’s face turned red with anger and I could feel him getting ready to lash out at me.
“This isn’t the time to talk about this,” my mom said, nodding toward Shiloh.
“Shiloh is old enough to know who you really are, and I’m sick of making excuses for you. I’m not doing it anymore.” I swore there was steam pumping out of my ears. All of my words were filled with fire. “You need to fix things with the McKennas and then leave them the hell alone. You know they’re good people.”
“We aren’t trying to punish the McKennas, Tristan,” my father said, taking a sip of his Bourbon.
“Arya and I aren’t together anymore, anyway, so there’s no need for you to keep hurting them.”
To my mom’s credit, she didn’t get up and do a celebration dance.
"Shiloh is at the dinner table. This isn’t the way to behave in front of her,” my mother responded, trying to make me look bad so that she can divert the attention away from her and my father’s evil doing.
“If you and Regina won’t work things out, then fine,” she said. “But you will marry someone appropriate, and Arya just isn’t that girl.”
“Well, I guess I have disappointing news for you then,” I said, taking a turn at looking both of them in the eyes. “Because Arya is pregnant.”
The room went silent enough to hear a pin drop three states away. My mom’s mouth hung open in stunned silence and my dad stared at the wall. I almost burst out laughing at the scene.
“Are you sure it’s yours?” my father asked when he gathered himself. I held myself back from throwing something.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Well, we'll require a DNA test before we do anything,” my mom chimed in.
I blew a few brain cells by stopping my body from lashing out at her, so instead I ignored that comment, not able to take anymore of her vitriol.
“Here’s how this is going to work,” I said, my tone even and icy. “You will accept Arya as the mother of my child, and my partner. You will treat her and her family with respect. I'm not asking you to like them, but you might actually learn how to be a better human if you hang out with them a little more. If you can’t do what I'm asking, you will not see me. You will not hear from me. You will not see Shiloh. And you will not see the baby.”
They sat again in stunned silence before nodding their heads like children who had just put in the naughty corner.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m done here and I need to make things right, because you apparently don't have the moral fortitude to.”
