Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
He recoils.
Even as I spit out the words, a bolt of hot agony rips a hole in my chest. Packing a bag. Christ, the idea of my father leaving, my parents divorcing … I scrape a hand through my hair, wanting to tear it out by the roots.
My father had an affair. He slept with another woman. And not just any other woman—Cassie’s mother. I’m still reeling from that. I’m sure Cassie is equally horrified. I’ll talk to her about it later when I see her, but, fuck, I don’t even know what there is to say. Yes, this mess was caused by our parents, not us. But everything about this situation just feels fucking wrong. As wrong as Mom carrying two plates of eggs and toast to the table as if our world is unchanged. The dogs trail after her, Fudge settling at her feet and staring longingly at their plates as if he hasn’t had a bite of food in forty-five years. Polly keeps a respectable distance because she has better manners.
I gape at my parents. “Why is he here?” I ask Mom. Without letting her respond, I turn to glower at him. “You couldn’t even give her twenty-four hours?”
Disdain drips from my tone and he flinches. His eyes widen and I realize I’ve never spoken to him this way before. But I’ve also never been this furious.
“You couldn’t even give her a full day to absorb that bombshell? Try to deal with—”
“We dealt with it eleven years ago.” That comes from Mom. Calm and resigned.
I swivel my head toward her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we dealt with it eleven years ago. Granted, I didn’t know it was Victoria Tanner.” She gives a rueful look at Dad. “I know, I know, I was insistent about you not telling me who it was. But—”
“You knew he had an affair?” I interject.
But I don’t need to see her nod to know the truth. Of course she knew. I’d been so caught up in my own shock over Victoria Tanner’s bombshell that I’d overlooked Mom’s reaction to it. When I think back to last night, I realize she hadn’t acted as shocked and horrified as she should have.
“I did, yes,” she says.
I turn back to Dad. This time, he won’t meet my gaze. Of course not. That was the one thing Victoria—sorry, Tori—had gotten right last night. Mr. Perfect always needs to look good to the world.
Another rush of anger burns a fiery path up my spine. All these years, he’s been acting like the model of virtue. Preaching about how family is so important, it always come first. Never forget that, Tate. And Gavin Bartlett does everything for his family.
Where was his family when he was banging somebody else?
Dad sees it all in my eyes, every thought I’m thinking, and it deepens the cloud of shame that darkens his face, sags his shoulders. He deserves to feel like shit after what he’s done.
What’s more shocking is that Mom knew all along. I think back to eleven years ago. I would have been twelve, turning thirteen. It was right when we moved to Avalon Bay. The memories surface. The arguments around the house, always behind closed doors. They made sure I wouldn’t overhear them, but I knew something was up. When I asked Mom about it, she just said they were going through a rough patch and not to worry. So I didn’t worry, because my entire life my parents never gave me any reasons to.
Turns out, they were arguing about the fact that he can’t keep his dick in his pants.
“Tate, sit down. Please,” Dad begs.
“No.” I stalk over to the counter and pour myself a cup of coffee. I gulp down the scalding liquid, wishing I could just fucking disappear.
“The affair happened when we moved here from Georgia,” Mom says quietly, seeking out my gaze. The total lack of anger or betrayal on her face only pisses me off more, though. “Your dad just opened a new business. I couldn’t find a job. We were arguing—”
“And that gives him a free pass to cheat?”
“Of course not,” she says. “I’m just providing the context—”
“It’s okay, darlin’,” Dad interjects, his voice gentle. “This is for me to fix.” With a ragged breath, he finally meets my eyes. “I fucked up, kid. Eleven years ago, I committed a very selfish act—”
“Several selfish acts,” I remind him coldly. “Because it sure doesn’t sound like it was a one-time thing.”
“No, it wasn’t. It lasted for four months. And I hated myself for it every single day.”
I snort. “If you expect me to have any sympathy—”
“I don’t. I don’t expect sympathy. I know what I did. Your mother knows what I did. And yes, it took me four months to come clean to her.”
I narrow my eyes. “You told her yourself?” For some reason I imagined Mom breaking into his phone or stumbling across a hotel receipt in his pocket.