What if he never wanted to see me again? What if he demanded that I repent my lifestyle and break it off with Derek and Brett? I knew he couldn’t make me do that, since I was an adult. But I also knew that if he threatened to disown me, to never see me again, that I’d cry and beg his forgiveness, because he was my dad. Because I loved him and looked up to him, and because he had raised me on his own. I might not have the same values as he did, but I respected him.
If I could just get away with not telling him. Not sharing private details of my sex life with him. Most people my age didn’t tell their parents who they were sleeping with or how anyway.
By failing to acknowledge my relationship with the guys, though, I was hurting them. If I had a boyfriend, as in singular, one and only one boyfriend, I’d obviously introduce him to my father. I’d invite him to join us for lunch. I’d hope they got along and liked each other. So refusing to admit I was romantically involved with Derek and Brett was like saying that they didn’t count. That neither was my boyfriend. That what we shared wasn’t real.
I even flirted with the idea of asking one of them to come to lunch as the boyfriend, and the other one to be the platonic roommate. Although my dad wouldn’t be happy with me living in the same apartment with a boyfriend either. Even if I had a separate room, he wouldn’t want me doing that. I shook my head. That wasn’t a compromise that would work. It would still disappoint my father, and it would hurt at least one of the guys. It was simply a no-win situation no matter what way I looked at it.
Exhausted and no closer to a solution, I finally drifted off to sleep.
22
At my internship, I asked for the afternoon off because my dad was in town. My supervisor was really nice about it. Since I knew from Celia that Liz Markham was out of town, I wasn’t worried about missing an opportunity to talk to her about what I’d sent her. I did some copies and a latte run and left at eleven. I had asked my dad to meet me at Richie’s, a place near work that had great burgers. I didn’t want to take him anyplace that would make him uncomfortable, like the French place with the fantastic soup where Celia and I sometimes went. Or the salad place that was stupidly expensive for a bowl of lettuce. I wanted him to feel like he was in his element, not out of place. So I took care to select a venue where he would be familiar with everything they served, and no one would be snooty or wearing a suit and tie.
I wore my pencil skirt and my blue blouse. I looked neat and professional, but I didn’t wear any fancy sample-closet shoes or a silk scarf. He wouldn’t like it if I was too into my appearance. Vanity was something he’d talked to me about when I wanted to start wearing makeup in middle school. I was allowed lip gloss—clear gloss only—until I was sixteen. Then I got to wear mascara. I thought I was as glamorous as freaking Kate Upton when I was finally allowed to wear mascara. So I’d kept my makeup understated—no contouring and highlighting, no perfect cat-eye liner.
I fidgeted and sipped my water. I’d ordered my dad iced tea and waited for him, impatient, nervous. When he walked in, I felt a rush of affection at the familiar sight of him. Here was the man who’d always loved and protected me and worked so hard to give me the best life he could. The flood of love, of having missed him so much, just overwhelmed me. I stood up, hugged him when he reached the table.
“It’s so good to see you, Daddy,” I said.
He patted my shoulder, “You look great, sweetie. City life agrees with you all right,” he said.
“Yes. I really like it. Have a seat. I got you some tea.”
“Thanks. I was afraid you’d pick some snooty sushi joint, but this is okay,” he said, seeming relieved. I was glad I’d picked a burger place.
We looked over the menu. I asked about his drive. He hated city traffic, but the place he was staying had free breakfast, so he had all the coffee and hotcakes he wanted that morning, he said.
“How’s work?” I asked.
“Same as ever. Ronnie Newton’s retiring. He and his wife sold their house and got a boat. They’re moving out to the lake.”
“Isn’t Ronnie the one who likes fishing?” I said.
“Yeah. He’s always wanted to go on the bass fishing tour. He’s not gonna do that, but he’ll relax out on the boat, drink beer and nap probably,” Dad chuckled.
“He’s earned it. He’s been there even longer than you,” I said.
“Old Ronnie started four years before me. But he’s been full time all that time. I didn’t go full time till two years after I started. I had to work the janitorial staff at the nursing home for a while to make ends meet, remember?”
“I remember you telling me about it. I was a baby, I think,” I said, biting my lip, thinking of my dad having to mop floors at a nursing home after working all day fixing cars.
“You would’ve been about three, maybe. Anyway, it wasn’t too long after that Mack hired me on full time. It was a lucky thing, because I was half asleep at that nursing home. The floors didn’t get too clean on my shift,” he said.
“You must’ve been tired. It’s like me doing the internship in the daytime and then going to the restaurant for my shift,” I said.
“You’re a hard worker like your old pop,” he said with a satisfied smile. “How’s waitressing? Still bringing in more tips than anyone else?”
“I’m not waiting tables anymore. I switched to bartending. The timing of the shift works better with my internship hours, and the people I work with are really nice.”
“A bar, though. Lynnie, we talked about this when you were in college. You insisted you knew best, but didn’t you have trouble with men trying to hit on you?”
“That’s true of waitressing too,” I said, “and bartending’s easier. Less rushing around on my feet. And I make better money.”
“I’d be happier if you were working as a waitress. You know what it looks like when a woman makes alcoholic drinks. I’m sure not all female bartenders have tank tops and big hair, but it’s not as respectable as waiting tables. That’s a woman’s job. Bartending, dealing with men who drink too much, that’s men’s work. A smart girl would stick to what is safer,” he said, his voice gentle but scolding. It took everything I had to bite back a sigh.
He ate his burger and fries. I didn’t have much appetite. I tried to let him know I got to attend staff meetings and talk to editors and other interesting people at the magazine, and that I never walked home alone from work.
“My roommates, the two cops who helped me out when my car broke down, they’re really protective. They come to the bar every night after their shift, not to drink but to look out for me and drive me home.”
“That’s good of them. Like older brothers,” Dad said. I tried to think of something, anything to say that would clarify the relationship without giving too much away.
“We’re all three good friends. It’s a safe building, and I like it there,” I said.
“Are you dating anybody?” he asked, eyeing me.
“Well,” I hesitated, “I’ve been seeing someone special, but it’s a little early to introduce you.”
“Good, good. Now, since you’ve caught me up on what’s going on in your life, I feel like I ought to tell you the truth. I’m seeing someone,” he said, his eyes firmly fixed on the napkin beside his plate.
“Seeing someone? That’s great,” I said, taking his hand, “I’m really happy for you.”
“You are?” he said, the concern in his brow smoothing out until he looked almost younger.
“Yes! Why wouldn’t I want you to be happy? Mom’s been gone a very long time.”
“I drove up here to clear the air with you about dating again. I didn’t feel right keeping it from you. I’m glad to hear you say you’re okay with it. I thought you might be upset that I was serious about somebody after your mama.”
“She’s been gone since I was little, Daddy. It’s high time you did something for yourself. I just want you to be happy, no matter what,” I said, a little bit tearful.
“Thank you,
sweetie. That makes me real happy to hear you say that,” he said, patting my hand.
Why wouldn’t I be happy for him? I loved him and wanted the best for him. It dawned on me then that he must feel the same way about me, that as long as I was happy and healthy, nothing else was important. He’d understand.
I got to my feet, “Daddy, I know you’re driving home this afternoon, but do you have time to go somewhere with me? I think I changed my mind. I want you to meet who I’m in love with,” I said bravely.
“In love with? Well, that right there’s pretty serious, sweetie. Of course I’ll come meet your boyfriend. I hope he’s a standup guy from a good family.”
We got in my dad’s old pickup, the familiar smell of peppermint and motor oil wafted to my nose. I breathed it in, feeling such a rush of familiarity, of good memories from my childhood riding beside him while we went to pick up parts from the salvage yard, playing country music on the radio. This was my dad, the one who taught me to ride a bike. He’d never want to hurt me, would never give me up because I disagreed with him. Love and family were stronger than that. I knew it.
I texted the guys, who were both at home. “I’m bringing Daddy to meet you. Forgive me for doubting,” I messaged them.
We pulled up to the firehouse, and I explained it was converted into lofts, that I rented a room in one of them. We went up the stairs.
Brett opened the door, hulking and strong, clean cut and quiet.
“Sir,” he said, holding out his hand.
I held my breath, but my dad shook his hand, “Good to meet you, son. I’m Lynnie’s daddy. Tell me about yourself.”
“I’m Brett Harding. I’m twenty-nine years old, and I’ve been a police officer for seven years. This is my best friend Derek Jennings, my partner on the force. He was kind enough to let me move in here after my divorce a little over a year ago,” Brett said, polite and grave.
“Mr. Weaver,” Derek said with his handsome smile, “I see you’ve brought our girl back.”
“Your girl?” my father asked, looking confused.
“Have a seat, Daddy. There’s something you should know.”
My dad sat down on Brett’s recliner, looked from one of us to the other, “I’ll be honest with you. I wasn’t happy that my daughter was renting a room from two men. My girlfriend, that is the lady I’ve been seeing, assured me that you two were probably homosexuals so I had nothing to worry about. See, her son is a homosexual and he’s a good guy. Little bit fancy, but a good kid. So what I don’t understand is if you were divorced—are you not a homosexual?” he asked Brett.
My eyes got wide. Did my dad just ask Brett Harding if he was gay? Who asks someone that the first time they meet? Or ever? I shook my head.
“Daddy,” I said, “they’re not gay. If they were, they’d still be the best friends I’ve ever had. I know you’ll love them once you get to know them, but please keep an open mind. I’m really happy here.”
“Do you mean to tell me that you’re living here like you’re in an episode of that Three’s Company with men who like women?” he said, his eyes narrowing.
“That wouldn’t be exactly accurate,” Derek said, “We aren’t just good friends, sir. We both love your daughter. Very much.”
“I hope you mean like she’s your little sister,” my father said, getting to his feet.
“No,” I said, knowing I had to be the one to say it, “I’m very safe there and taken care of. These two men—I’m in love with them. We’re together. I’m seeing them both, and I know it’s unconventional, but we’re very happy, and it works for us. I was afraid to tell you, because I was afraid you’d disown me—" my voice broke, willing him to say that he could never do that to his baby girl.
“This is not how I raised you, Lynette Catherine Weaver. This is perversion. It disgusts me. I can only hope that when I get you back home you’ll come to your senses.”
“I am home, Daddy,” I said, tears streaming down my face, “I’m not leaving with you. I want to be here with Derek and Brett. They’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. They’ve loved me unconditionally even when I didn’t deserve it. So I’m begging you to think about this—to stop and think before you walk out of here. Because we can’t take back what we’re saying.”
“I don’t want to take it back. I was ready to be okay with you living with a couple of gays, but not this, not shacking up with two men like a common whore.”
I covered my mouth to muffle the sob.
“You need to go,” Derek said, taking my father by the arm, “We’re not going to stand by and listen to you talk to Lynette that way. She’s a good, decent human being and she’s worth a hundred of you and your prejudices. You’re not welcome here until you’re ready to apologize and accept her for who she is. She’s an incredible woman. A woman you raised, by the way. You should be proud of her, and ashamed of yourself.”
Derek escorted my dad to the door and shut it behind him. I sank down onto the recliner, crying like my heart was broken. I had been so wrong to bring my father there, to introduce them. Everything I’d feared had happened. I was an orphan—no mother and now no father. He’d walked out on me by choice, called me a whore. I was sure would never see him again.
23
Brett held me in his arms. I sniffed and blew my nose on the tissues Derek had brought me.
“I’m sorry,” I told them, “I’m sorry I brought him here. He said terrible things to the two of you. He’s not—capable of realizing that you two are the most amazing men I’ve ever met. That I’m so lucky to have you.”
Brett kissed the top of my head.
“It’s okay. We’ve got you,” he said.
I shook my head, pulled away.
“I owe you both an apology for this,” I said.
“No, I think I understand now why you didn’t want to be open with him,” Derek said.
“I owed it to myself to be honest, and what’s more, I owed it to you to be proud of the men in my life and to admit how lucky I am to have you both. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You won’t have to find out,” Derek said, “We’re in this for the long haul. We had a talk this morning. Neither of us is willing to give up. It’s too good, too right.”
“I love you,” Brett said, “not only like a best friend.”
My chest felt like it swelled and I gave a watery smile. I hugged him, “I love you, too. And you, Derek. So much.”
Derek hugged the back of me.
“We should go to bed,” he suggested. I laughed, but I didn’t argue.
“It’s been a big day. I want to reconnect with you two, let you know how much I love and value you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’ll never shy away from this again. I’ll always—I’ll always regret losing him. I’ll always miss him, but I know I did the right thing. It felt good to be honest about us.”
Derek kissed me softly, “Know what else feels good?” he teased.
“Show me,” I said.
An hour later we were all three panting on the bed, Brett’s hand on my bare hip, my head on Derek’s outstretched arm. We were sweaty, sated, when my phone rang. I crawled across Derek and fished my phone out of my purse on the floor. It was Liz Markham’s number.
“H-hello?” I stammered.
“Lynette, good, I’m glad I reached you. We need to meet tomorrow. I’ll be back in the office. Your article blew me away. It was so honest, so sex-positive. I love it. We’re going to develop it and lead with it on our relationships feature for next month.”
“Oh my God! Thank you!” I said.
“Celia will text you to set up a time. I’m boarding a plane, so I have to go, but I wanted to tell you personally that my faith in your potential was not misplaced. I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” I said again as she hung up. I dropped the phone on the bed side table.
“Guys!” I said, “Liz Markham LOVED my article and it’s being published next month! I’m going to be in Envy! M
y first real article!” I squealed.
Brett kissed me. His tongue slow and deep in my mouth firing a warmth that suffused my body. At once, I was aroused again, all thoughts of exhaustion forgotten. “Mmmm,” I moaned.
Derek’s fingers brushed my mound, and I gave a shudder. I wanted his fingers all over me, inside me. I wanted both of them now.
“You like that, don’t you,” he said, his voice a low hum in my ear behind me as Brett continued to kiss me. Brett plucked at my nipples until they were sharp points, sensitive and aching.
I loved the feel of Derek reaching around me, his fingers parting my slick folds to fondle me as Brett kissed me and stimulated my nipples.
“I want you,” I whispered, “Both of you.”
“I’m all yours,” Derek said, “where do you want me?”
I broke the kiss, looked back over my shoulder at him, “I want you on your back.”
He grinned, laid back on the bed, arms behind his head. His erection was hard, dark at the tip and I could see a bead of moisture. I knew it would taste of salt and his own musk. I couldn’t resist. I broke away from Brett and took Derek’s cock in my mouth, moaning as the taste of him filled me, his thickness, his hardness. I turned on all fours to devour him. His hand was in my hair, holding me there. I gasped as Brett took my hips in his big hands and held me steady. I knew it was coming, his huge cock about to penetrate me. The anticipation already had me clenching, had shivers of pleasure running through my body. When the head of his cock nudged the softness of my sex, I cried out around Derek’s cock. Brett took me hard, all at once, his cock buried inside me, his thighs slapping against mine with a lewd sound as I sucked Derek. I was moaning with every thrust, and Derek’s grip on my hair was just hard enough to make my scalp tingle. I was throttling toward a massive climax, my mouth and pussy full of the men I loved. I was caught right at the edge when Derek pulled my face up from his cock. He moved fast, brought my face to his and kissed me, soft and slow, parting my lips and sliding his tongue in my mouth in languorous strokes until I shivered with a jolt of cold, my nipples stinging with the arousal.
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