“I see,” Dad said as his eyes went back to Ari’s father. “I didn’t know all of that.”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” he said.
“That still doesn’t give you the right to put your hands on my son.”
“It does when it’s my daughter he’s sleeping with.”
“I’m sure a judge will see it differently if I press charges.”
My hands pressed against my thighs in the pocket of my jeans. I willed myself to stay quiet. What a fucking mess this had all turned into. What did Ari’s father think he’d accomplish by coming over here?
“Your son took advantage of my daughter. I expect you to do something about that,” he said.
“What?” I asked in disbelief.
Dad put his hand out, telling me to let him handle this.
“Did Arianna say that?” my father asked.
“Does it matter what she says? Of course she’ll say anything to defend him. My daughter isn’t in her right mind right now.”
“But did the words ‘he pressured me’ come out of her mouth?”
“They didn’t have to.”
“They sure as hell did if you’re going to accuse my son of what you’re accusing him of Matthew.”
The two men stared one another down, and all I wanted to do was crawl into a hole. A summer fling. That’s all it was supposed to be. That’s all Arianna and I agreed to. And now, it had become a downright brawl. The most embarrassing situation of my life. One that our small town of Hollis, New Hampshire, would surely be talking about for months to come.
“Did you come here to try and pin something on my son, Matt? Or did you come here to talk? Because you can’t claim statutory rape on my son. Both he and your daughter are of age. In fact, they’re the age we were at when we started—”
“My daughter is better than any of us. Better than me. Better than you. Certainly better than your son,” he spat.
“Your daughter is a wonderful girl. You’re the one that makes her question that fact,” I said.
“What did you say to me?” her father glowered.
“Simon, let me handle this,” Dad said.
I looked down at my feet, trying to take my eyes off the man. Because if I didn’t, I couldn’t be held liable for anything I said next.
“Is this really coming as a shock to you, Matt?”
Her father paused. “What does that mean, Tommy?”
“I mean, I know they’ve been dating all summer. My son’s been very up-front with me.”
“My daughter told me nothing about it.”
“Then, maybe that should be your first clue as to the relationship you think you have with your daughter.”
Their gazes locked. “Don’t you dare talk to me about my relationship with my daughter.”
“Matt, you’ve been through literal hell. Losing Kathy the way you did wasn’t easy.”
“Don’t you dare say her name!” he roared.
I physically winced as my father stepped in front of me.
“I want you out of my house,” Dad said.
“Not until we talk, Tommy.”
“You’re not in any condition to talk. You can come back when you’ve got a level head.”
“Did you know your son was sleeping with my daughter? Did you know that and not tell me?”
My father stood up to him. “Even if I did, our children’s sex lives aren’t any of our business as long as they’re being safe about it.”
I heard the man practically snarl at my father.
“I want you off my property until you can talk with a cool head. I won’t say it again, Matt.”
“I want your son away from my daughter. For the rest of the summer.”
I whipped my head up. “Wait a second. That’s not—”
“Damn it, Simon. Don’t make me send you upstairs,” Dad hissed.
“She leaves for college in three weeks. She’s got a full ride to Stanford, of all places. She’s going somewhere. She’s making something of herself. She’s getting out of a town that killed her mother and sucked her father dry of anything he could ever accomplish. She’s destined for greater things than Hollis. And I won’t have your boy derailing that for her. My daughter deserves better.”
My father nodded. “He’ll keep his distance.”
“Dad,” I whispered harshly.
He whipped around to face me. “You’ll keep. Your distance.”
“I don’t know what the hell my daughter was thinking, sneaking him into our house like this. I’m assuming it’s been like that the entire summer. But no more. It stops now. But I do have one question for you, Tommy.”
My father slowly turned to face Arianna’s father before he squared off his shoulders.
“What?” he asked.
“You were my daughter’s coach for four years. Volleyball, all through high school. You’ve been my friend for decades. We grew up together. You were with me the day I buried Kathy. You wrote my daughter’s recommendation for that scholarship. Family dinners. Funeral lunches. Yeah, sure, we’re competitive. But we’re friends. So why on God’s green fucking planet would you keep something like this from me?”
My father shrugged. “I just thought you knew, Matt. I didn’t realize that when I said something last night, you’d storm off the way you did. I thought you knew about all this. Really, I did.”
“Really. After all the times I’ve confided in you about keeping my daughter on the straight and narrow. Refusing to let her date. Refusing to let her see boys. Refusing to let her take her sights off the end goal, like you always taught her in volleyball, and you thought I’d make an exception for your son?”
“My son is a good boy, Matt. It never once crossed my mind that you’d think otherwise.”
“He was fucking my daughter in our basement!”
“And if I recall, you lost your virginity to Kathy much sooner than that!”
Ari’s father lunged at my own and went to punch him. But my father caught the punch. I stumbled back, my eyes widening at the sight before me. The men tousled in the kitchen. I wanted to fight back—help my father in any way I could—but he shot me a look, telling me to stay back before he clocked Ari’s father underneath his jaw. The brute of a man stumbled back. He fell into a kitchen chair before my father approached him. With anger in his eyes, my father hovered over Ari’s father, glaring at him as both men panted.
“Do you have something else you want to say? Or are you done?” Dad asked.
Ari’s father slowly stood as he lifted his already bruising chin.
“Actually, I do have something else to say.”
Dad glowered. “Then, spit it out and get out of my house before I call the police.”
Ari’s father ran his hands down his shirt. “I have a proposition for you. One that will benefit all parties involved.”
The two of them faced off as I slowly stepped into a corner, trying to get away from the situation as much as possible. Then, the two of them started murmuring, keeping everything away from my ears before Dad turned around to face me.
“Son, go on upstairs,” he said.
“But, Dad—”
“Now,” he said hotly.
I didn’t want to stay in the fucking kitchen anyway.
I took the long way around, maneuvering around Ari’s father. As the two men started talking, my mind swirled. He didn’t want me around Ari? For the last three weeks of the summer? Fine. If he didn’t want me around her, then I sure as hell didn’t want to stay in town anyway. My sophomore year was calling my name, and all I wanted was a nice jump start into the year. A nice summer distraction since my father didn’t force me to get a job like other fathers did to their kids. I wanted to slug her dad right in the jaw, like my dad got to. What gave him the right to control her like that? What gave him the right to determine that I wasn’t a suitable guy for her to be with?
Didn’t her happiness matter at all to him?
I climbed back into my bed and fell asleep. I didn’
t want to be awake for any of this. I kicked my shoes off, slid under the covers, and dipped back into my dreams. Dreams of Ari smiling at me with her rich brown hair. The sun making her natural honey highlights shimmer as her brown eyes stared up at me. She was so small, yet so powerful. Her eyes flecked with speckles of yellow that accented the beauty of her hair. Her rich tan skin, aching to get underneath the California summer sun. And those lips. Oh, beautifully red with a soft pout.
I couldn’t get enough of those lips.
She was beauty in physical form. A manifestation of the world’s greatest poem. A walking metaphor for the sensuality of sex and a graceful artifact of the byproduct of love. I didn’t know what love was, but I figured it was akin to how I felt about her.
The girl who had stolen my breath away all summer.
“Son?”
My eyes fluttered open as the sound of Dad’s voice.
“Simon, you up?”
“Mhm,” I said, yawning.
I felt him sit on the edge of my bed as I rubbed sleep from my eyes.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
I turned over. “Is he gone?”
“Yeah, Matt’s gone.”
“You didn’t kill him, did you?”
He snickered. “Wanted to on a couple of occasions.”
I rubbed my eyes. “What was it he wanted to talk with you about?”
“Well, you’re not going to like it. But I think in the long run it’s going to better for everyone.”
“Don’t tell me you gave in.”
When Dad didn’t say anything, I bolted upright.
“This isn’t fair, Dad, and you know it!”
“Son, I know. But—”
“There’s only three weeks left in the summer. You mean I can’t see her at all for those three weeks? Or, ever?”
“Simon, take a breath.”
“Dad come on. You know he’s being unreasonable. Not to mention she’s eighteen. He can’t control her.”
“And even though I disagree with his parenting tactics, Arianna isn’t my child to parent. I can’t change how he approaches things. I can only change how he approaches things with you.”
I sighed. “Please tell me I can at least see her to say goodbye.”
He shook his head. “No, he’s forbidding you to see her.”
“What the fuck?”
“Language in this house. You know the rules.”
I shook my head. “Wow. And you actually agreed to that?”
“Son, I’m not going to lie, if I knew Arianna was sneaking around behind her father’s back? I wouldn’t have given you permission to date her. Transparency is key in things like this.”
“You know he would’ve never allowed it.”
“Then maybe it should have never happened.”
I scoffed. “You’re not serious right now, are you?”
He sighed. “Her father and I have come to an agreement. One that benefits everyone. If Arianna wants to reach out and say goodbye, she will. But you aren’t allowed to approach her. At all.”
“So, if she reaches out, I can talk to her?”
He nodded. “Yes. You can. But in the meantime, you need to start packing.”
“For what?”
Dad licked his lips. “I’ve pulled some strings and gotten you an internship back at school, working alongside the men and women’s volleyball coach there. It’s a paying position. It’ll give you some kick-around money.”
“And it gets me away from Arianna sooner.”
“Yeah. It does.”
“When does the internship start?”
He sighed. “Monday. Bart wants you in his office Sunday afternoon to go over a schedule and start lining out your duties.”
I blinked. “That’s in four days.”
“I know.”
“Do you know when her father’s going to tell Arianna what’s going on?”
He shrugged. “No, son. I don’t.”
And there it was. The kicker in all this. Sure, he’d tell Arianna that I was leaving. Maybe. But most certainly he wouldn’t tell her until after I was gone to this internship or whatever bullshit my father had set up for me.
He took my hand. “Simon, you’re like me. You’re determined. You’re hardworking. And you’re stubborn. Arianna’s father is very upset with you right now. It still took me twenty minutes to convince him not to find a charge to press against you for finding you in the position you were last night with his daughter. And I know the longer you stay home, the more it’s going to tempt you to go see her.”
“This is bullshit and you know it.”
He gave me a look, then sighed. “I know it is. But sometimes things don’t always go our way. Own up to your part in it and move past it. You’ve got a future ahead of you, and I do agree with Matt on that one thing. You can’t get stuck in ‘the now’ and toss the future away in the process.”
I pulled my hand away from his. I slipped back underneath the covers and pulled them over my head. Dad patted my back before he left my room, my door clicking closed softly. My tears burned. My body ached. My heart felt like it was exploding and imploding at the same time. Well, fuck it. Fuck it all. I didn’t want to be in this sorry-ass town if I couldn’t see Arianna anyway.
Internship, here I come.
3
Arianna - Present Day
“Macy, I swear to all that’s holy and good on this earth, get down here right now!”
I drew in a deep breath as I heard my daughter stomping around upstairs. I held my tongue as much as I could because I didn’t want to start off the morning with a fight. I didn’t want to govern my eight-year old daughter with fear, like my father had governed me.
She stomped down the steps, and I looked up. With her wild hair an untamed mess and that defiant look on her face, she dropped her backpack to the floor. I held up the brush along with some bows, and she rolled her eyes at me.
“Let’s try that again, without the eye roll,” I said.
“Fine,” she murmured.
She came and sat down in the chair in front of me in the half bathroom downstairs. I slowly started working through the knots in her hair. Have mercy, she’d inherited her father’s disheveled hair. Frizzy. Wild. Hell-bent on expanding with every ounce of humidity. Her honey highlights were eaten up by the curls that stayed in her hair exactly one day after washing it before she tossed and turned at night, waking up with nightmares, jumping into bed with me, and generally getting into trouble at three in the morning because she woke up and didn’t go back to sleep.
I need help.
“Ouch, Mom!”
“Sit still and it won’t hurt,” I said.
“It hurts anyway.”
“Well, then let me braid your hair back at night and it won’t.”
She huffed. “I hate braids.”
“You never used to. You used to love your hair in braids,” I reminded her.
“Yeah, when I was a baby,” she said.
“It was two years ago for crying out loud. Now sit still or I’m calling Santa and telling him to skip our house this year.”
She opened her mouth to say something else but thought better of it. The Santa card always worked. She grumbled underneath her breath, and I shot her a glare in the mirror. That sass of hers was becoming way too much lately. And the icy blue eyes that stared back at me took my breath away. Every time I saw those eyes, I thought of him and the last night we’d spent with one another.
And all the painful memories that came along with it.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
I noticed my eyes were getting watery. “Nothing. Just a bit tired.”
“You sure?”
I nodded. “Oh, yeah. Which is why we need to help you sleep through the night. Mom’s so tired, her body’s going crazy!”
I wiggled my daughter’s head around, and she started laughing. After working through the knots, I put her hair up in thick ponytails. I wanted to cut her hair so badly. It had split ends g
alore, and it was terribly unhealthy, but she wouldn’t let me take her to a salon. To this day, I still didn’t know why. Her hair had grown down to her damn waist, and she wouldn’t even let me take the ends off with the scissors I had in the kitchen.
I wish my daughter talked to me.
“Got your lunch box?” I asked.
“Gotta get it from the kitchen,” Macy said.
“Got your homework in your folder?”
“And in my backpack.”
“Got your money for a dessert at lunch?”
“In my pocket.”
I smiled. “Got your permission slip for the field trip?”
She smiled back. “Yes, ma’am!”
I kissed the top of her head. “Atta, girl. I’m so proud of you.”
Only when she smiled did she not look so angry. But between her tan skin, her dark hair, and those bright eyes? She looked upset even when she was nothing but tired.
The peace didn’t last long, though.
“Mom, I don’t want ham and cheese for lunch!”
I sighed. “We don’t have time for me to make you another sandwich, honey.”
“But I don’t want it!”
She shrieked and I heard plastic slam against the wall. I sent up a small prayer, asking any god listening to give me patience to deal with my ever-changing little girl. No one told me having a girl would be like this. The anger. The isolation. The sass she could spew from her little lips. She kept yelling in the kitchen, and I wondered if letting her scream it out was worth it this morning before my second cup of coffee.
No, it wasn’t.
“I’ll give you money for lunch if you’ll just hush!” I roared.
And immediately, the tantrum ceased.
My lip quivered as I escorted my daughter out to the car. I helped her into her booster seat before tucking a couple of dollars into her pocket. She kissed my cheek, and I almost resented it. Almost. Her manipulative tactics would be the death of me. I never thought in my wildest dreams that trait of my father’s was inheritable. But the more she grew up and the more she challenged me, the more I wondered.
Daddy’s Secret Baby Page 2