The Perfect Bastard

by LK Collins

  As I drive home, I try to focus on breathing and staying in control, but I can’t shake the way things ended between Mia and me. I pushed her away because I shouldn’t care, or feel the way I do about her. She’s young and has her whole life ahead of her. The last thing she needs is me—a divorced man with two teenage daughters—dragging her down. Plus, I’m not a good person. I can’t even hold it together long enough not to attack some kid who honked at me.

  I need to keep things in my life focused on my daughters, the way I have been doing since Georgia left. It’s what got me this far. Giving into Mia that one night was a mistake, one that I can’t make again. Logically, I know that. However, the thoughts and feelings she rips out of me are gonna make me lose my mind, which I’m only hanging on to by a thread.

  Pulling up to my house, I take in a deep breath of air and then let it out before heading inside. I never know what to expect from the girls anymore. For all I know, there could be some raging party going on.

  There isn’t. Everything is quiet. I head down to the basement to check on them. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I smile. They are lying together on the couch, tucked under one of Georgia’s favorite blankets, watching a movie. Their tired eyes are blinking slowly, and it takes me back to when they were younger.

  Rianna reaches for the remote to pause the movie, and I tell her, “Don’t.” Sitting next to her, I wrap my arm behind her, and to my surprise, she cuddles against my chest the same way she did when she was little. I touch Maisy’s cheek, my hand still stings from the events of tonight. But she grabs it, kisses the top, and then holds on to it, making everything feel better.

  My heart pounds from being this close to my little girls. They may be growing up quickly, but they’ll always be little to me. The closeness in this moment is everything to me, and as clouded as my brain can get sometimes, I have to always remind myself how much they depend on me. I can’t be doing crazy shit like I did tonight hitting that guy. If I were to get caught . . . then what? They would end up moving in with Chandler? I couldn’t even imagine. It really sucks that both Georgia and I were cut from some shitty cloth, but we were. I think that’s what drew us together in the first place. We were young, and at that point, we were the only right things out of so much wrong. I don’t want that for my girls, I want to be what’s right.

  “Breakfast is getting cold,” I holler down the stairs to the girls, and it isn’t a few seconds later that they come up.

  “Hey, Dad,” Maisy says with Rianna in tow.

  “Hey, girls. I made your favorite.”

  “Wow! What’s the occasion?” Rianna asks. Her usual sarcasm is in full effect this morning.

  “No occasion. I just wanted to cook for my girls.” Really there is a reason. I feel bad for grounding them and the way things have been between us lately. I know my girls; it’s totally out of character for Maisy to be fighting at school and for Rianna to have a boy in her room. Something else has to be bothering them, and as much as I hate to talk about my feelings, I’m gonna have to open up if I want them to do the same.

  We all sit to eat my signature French toast. I can’t cook many things, but I can cook a damn mean French toast.

  “Just ask him,” Rianna mumbles and gives Maisy that look.

  She swallows and says to me, “Uh, I know we’re grounded, but—”

  “You’re not grounded,” I interrupt her, which surprises them.

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because I know the anniversary of your mom leaving is coming up and that’s always hard.” Neither of them responds. Really, what could they even say to that? So, I continue, “You both know I love you dearly; you’re everything to me, and sometimes I go a little off the deep end trying to protect you. But I wanna do the right things. I don’t want to screw up like your mom did.”

  “Dad, you’re not a screw-up. You’re the best dad in the world,” Maisy says, so sweet with unconditional love.

  “Yeah, you’re nowhere close to how Mom was.”

  I understand why they would say that, but the truth is I’m more like their mom than they probably know. I just work damn hard to keep my issues hidden.

  “I appreciate you both saying that, but I want you to know you can always come to me to talk. You don’t need to handle your problems other ways, like fighting”—I look at Maisy and then turn my eyes to Rianna—“or with boys.” She gives me a wry smile.

  “You know we’ll always come to you, Dad,” Maisy says, and as much as I hear her words, their actions lately have proven otherwise. But I trust my girls; I have to. They’re all I have in this world.

  Chapter 8

  Mia

  “This place is sick,” Chandler says, looking at the city view from my balcony.

  “Yeah, you think so?”

  “Fuck yeah, I do. You’ve done great for yourself, sis.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So, when do I get to read your speech?” he asks me, sitting next to me on my outdoor sofa.

  “Um, hopefully, I’ll have it done this weekend. Then I’ll send it to you.”

  “Send it to Roan, too.”

  “Ah . . . okay.”

  “Something wrong with that?” I shake my head, feeling my anxiety spike.

  Don’t act stupid, Mia.

  “Not at all.”

  “Come on, Mia. You aren’t really gonna lie to me about him forever, are you?”

  Shit, Roan told him.

  “What are you talking about?” I’m all nervous energy as the words tumble out, and I grab my bottle of water from the table, fidgeting with the label.

  “About Roan.”

  “What about Roan?”

  “Well, I know you like him. That much is clear. I can tell by the way you look at him and get all quiet and shit when he’s around.”

  I laugh awkwardly. “I don’t like him.”

  Maybe Roan didn’t tell him.

  “Seriously? It’s me you’re talking to. I know how to read women.”

  Does he ever. My brother, the womanizer, can probably read minds. Then mine flashes to Roan’s mouth on my body and . . .

  “See, right there, you’re thinking about him, and you have to stop.”

  “I’m thinking about my speech. Don’t act like you can read my mind.”

  “Deny it all you want, but I know what I see, and I really can’t emphasize enough how bad of a choice it would be if you and Roan hooked up. He’s not the one for you. Hell, he has more baggage than a crowded seven forty-seven.”

  Roan definitely didn’t tell him.

  “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” And thankfully his phone chimes. Like a distracted dog, he looks at it. I wonder if I could distract him with perfume or something the next time he starts to grill me about liking Roan.

  “Then you won’t mind if I invite him out with us tonight?”

  I shake my head, not about to give my brother so much as a hint of him being right. The chirp of him sending a text goes off, which is shortly followed by receiving one.

  “All right, let’s go.”

  Coolly, I get off the sofa and traipse back inside my house to grab my purse from the kitchen.

  “You coming?” I call over my shoulder, but he’s so lost in his phone he hardly responds.

  “Roan asked me if you were coming.” The quirk of his lips taunts me with what he knows, but I refuse to admit. As if this is a game to him.

  “What did you say?” I ask locking my back door after he walks through it.

  “What should I say?”

  “Say whatever the fuck you want, Chandler! I don’t like him.”

  “God, you’re pissy tonight, maybe I don’t want to hang with you at all.”

  “I’m sorry.” I really am. It’s not fair that I’m taking my frustrations for Roan out on him. “I’m just stressed about the conference. I’m the youngest one speaking and—”

  “And you’re gonna do great, Mia. You know why? Because you’re my sister and you’
re fucking amazing!”

  I smile as he slings his arm over my shoulder. “You know I’m only teasing you about Roan. I know you don’t like that old fucker.”

  If only he knew.

  We make the short trip on foot to one of my favorite restaurants, and I pray now more than ever that Chandler never finds out what Roan and I did. I just added insult to injury by lying to him.

  As we enter, the hostess is on the phone, and when she looks up at us, her expression changes to anger. Chandler whispers in my ear, “Shit . . . I fucked her.” Of course, he did.

  “Who haven’t you fucked?” I quietly ask.

  “A lot of women.” We both smile at the poor girl, who throws us a hateful glare as we make our way into the bar area without her assistance in picking a table.

  “Aren’t you scared of diseases and shit?” I ask as we sit at a table just like we did the other night. And I wonder if that’s why he likes to pick his own tables.

  “Nah, I keep my boy wrapped up.”

  Too. Much. Information. I shake my head, trying to erase the image of my brother and a condom. Hell, it’s so wrong. In order to burn the image out of my brain, I order a double rum and coke with a shot of Patrón.

  “Damn, someone’s ready to party!”

  He has no idea. Before I can wash my worries away in endless amounts of alcohol, Roan walks through the front door. He looks mouth-watering in his dark jeans and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled half up, showing me his tattoos that I’ve missed. His hair is damp, as if he just got out of the shower, and . . . I can’t stop staring at him. He’s looking around for us, and internally I fight the ball of butterflies that are flooded inside my belly. Then he looks at me.

  “Motherfucker,” I grumble and glance in the other direction.

  “What did you say?” Chandler asks me.

  “Who? Me? I didn’t say anything.” I shake my head, pissed for making such a simple and stupid mistake. And before Chandler can give me any more of a hard time, Roan is at the table.

  “Mia,” he says in his rich voice just as the waitress sets our drinks down. I slam the shot and tell her, “I’ll take another.”

  The guys stare at me as if something is wrong with me. I bite back a scoff. Between the three of us, I’m the most normal one. So I give them a tight smile and then lift my drink to my lips and take a sip.

  “What’s up, man?” Chandler asks him.

  “Not much, just hung with the girls today. You?”

  “Didn’t do shit. Hey, did Veronica tell you she was quitting?”

  “No, why.”

  “I went into the office to check on a few things, and she was there packing her desk.”

  “What did you say to her?”

  “Nothing, what was I supposed to say?”

  “Uh . . . ask her what she’s doing.”

  “Nah, I know it’s because of me. She wanted to stay the night at my house the other night, and I told her fuck no.”

  “Chandler, you can’t talk to women like that,” I scold, and Roan nods in agreement. But the comment he made reminds me of the night Roan left me. A jolt of pain shoots through my heart.

  “I didn’t ask her for this shit. She came on to me. She was the one who initiated it. It’s not my problem that she didn’t listen when I told her I don’t do relationships.” The waitress sets another shot down, and Chandler watches me slam it. “Slow down, would ya?”

  I roll my eyes, and Roan looks between the two of us. “What’s going on?”

  “You want to tell him, or should I?” Chandler asks, and Roan’s face drains of color. He’s worried that my brother found out about what happened between us.

  “What’s to tell? I’m stressed about my speech.”

  Roan lets out a deep breath; clearly, relief rushes over him. I know with not only how Chandler is acting but also with the way things ended for Roan and me, I have to let go of my feelings. I can’t keep living my life like this.

  Chapter 9

  Roan

  I don’t like watching Mia drink as much as she is. She can say it’s about her speech, but she has another month before she has to give it, so I know something else is bothering her.

  “I’ll have another,” she slurs to the waitress, and Chandler shakes his head at her. She boldly flips him off, and the waitress leaves to grab her another round, probably thinking that we’re nothing but a shit-show.

  Chandler’s phone rings . . . again, and of course, he answers it. If he’s not working, he’s trying to talk his way into a girl’s pants. When he stands and heads for the door, Mia’s drunken eyes follow him.

  “Would you slow down, for me?”

  She looks at me, resting her chin atop her hand. “Why? Why would I do anything for you, Roan?”

  “Come on, don’t be like that.”

  “No . . . you don’t be like that. We’ve already established that you don’t get to tell me what to do.” I don’t respond, and a moment later, she heaves a deep sigh, stands, and stumbles off to the restroom.

  Chandler comes back to the table, and when I look at him, he’s practically bouncing with energy. “What’s up?” I ask.

  “Nothing. Mia in the restroom?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Listen, I wanted to ask you a question.”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “You don’t like her or anything, do you?”

  “What? Me? No way, man.”

  “You sure? I just sense something going on between you two lately.”

  “Yeah, for sure, I’d tell you.”

  “Good, thank you, man. I mean if it were any other girl, I wouldn’t care, but she’s my sister and all the family I have. I’d hate for something to go on between you two, and it come between us. Plus, she’s had it rough in the dating department, and I just want the best for her.”

  I should be mad that he doesn’t think I’m good enough for his sister, but I agree. Chandler knows just as well as I do that she and I together would be bad. So, I’m gonna take his advice and stay as far away from her as I can.

  “You have nothing to worry about, bro.”

  “Good, listen, I gotta go handle some business if you know what I mean. Can you get Mia home safely?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks, I owe you,” he says and pats my shoulder on his way out. And like that, he’s gone.

  Chandler has always been all over the place. I find it a bit funny that he can get a phone call, draw the line between Mia and me, and then be on his way. That’s Chandler, though.

  The waitress sets Mia’s new drink and shot down, but I know I’m not gonna let her have them. “We’re actually done, could I get the bill?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Mia still isn’t back when the bill for two beers, four drinks, and four shots hits the table.

  Jesus, no wonder she’s still not back from the bathroom.

  I leave cash on the table and head to the back hallway leading to the restrooms. “Mia?” I call out and knock on the bathroom door. She doesn’t answer, and I glance behind me. There isn’t anyone there, so I push the door open just far enough to peek inside. It appears to be empty, so I slip in.

  The bathroom is noiseless, so I move to the only stall with a closed door. “Mia, are you okay?”

  “Get out of here, Roan!” she yells at me. I laugh. She really should know me better than that.

  “Let me in,” I tell her.

  “No!”

  “Come on.”

  I hear her move around, so I back up, giving her enough room to open the door and walk out.

  “Why are you in here?”

  “I got worried, you’ve had a ton to drink, and I didn’t know what was going on.”

  “Chandler is going to kill you.”

  “He’s gone,” I tell her as she washes her hands, looking back at me in the reflection of the mirror. Even drunk, she is gorgeous. “You need to leave, I’m not your problem to worry about.”

  “I’m
not leaving, Chandler asked me to get you home safely.”

  She shakes her head as she pulls some paper towels from the dispenser, dries her hands, and then braces herself against the sink. For drinking as much as she did, she seems to really be holding her shit together pretty well.

  “I’ll get myself home.” She glares at me and straightens. Then she backs up and stumbles, but I somehow catch her before she falls. The instant that my hands wrap around the heat of her body, all I want to do is pull her closer.

  Mia is perfect. Everything about her is what I want. But I can’t give her what she needs—what she deserves—plain and simple. With that thought, I loosen the hold I have on her body. The look in her eyes is dejected, and it breaks me from the inside out.

  “Will you at least let me drive you home?”

  “No, I’m not getting in your car with you, Roan.”

  “Well, you’re not driving in your condition,” I tell her, and she lets out an aggravated sigh before shoving through the restroom door on a mission out of here. I’m close behind her. I don’t care what she says, I will not let her drive like this. As she walks, she doesn’t look back, and I don’t stop following.

  After a few blocks, she stops in front of a sky rise, and as she reaches for the door, she looks over at me as I cross the street. I make my way to her, catching up to her before she goes inside.

  This must be where she lives.

  “You can go now.” Her tone is aggravated as the wind whips around her.

  “I’ll walk you to your door.” It earns me a glare, but she relents and heads inside. She doesn’t say a single thing as she leads me to the elevator, and then we ride it up to her floor. God, I hate how I’ve lost her.

  The doors open, and she walks down a long hallway and to her front door.

  “I’m home, happy?” she asks and glances over at me. A stray piece of her hair is stuck to her bottom lip. Gingerly, I reach for it, prepared to have my hand slapped away.