Page 13 of Father Knows Best (A Family Affair #1)

seven

. . .

sutton

The Apology Plan

She’s asked me where it came from and the thing I hate most about my answer of “I don’t know” is that it’s the truth.

I really have no clue where it came from yesterday.

Maybe it was him trying to give marriage advice when he has not been in a serious relationship since my mother.

Maybe it was him trying to father in front of someone. Maybe it’s the stress of the wedding.

The thing is, after Avery asked me why I did it—lashed out on my father and almost punched him in the face—I really gave thought to her question.

I haven’t had an answer all morning. Not when I shaved, not when I read the paper, not when I made espresso, not when I packed Avery’s favorite salad for her lunch, not when I got dressed and knotted my favorite silk tie.

Now, sitting at the table sipping our second espresso as we wait for our bowls of oatmeal to cool, I watch Avery read the paper, sifting her fingers through her soft golden hair mindlessly as she does, and I know.

“Marrying you,” I say out of nowhere, causing her to look up, letting the paper fall to the table.

“What?”

“Marrying you has me thinking of the future, of all the things I want for us in our life together. And thinking of our future made me think about my parents.” I trace the rim of my espresso with a fingertip, staring into the murky surface as I collect my thoughts.

“At some point, I put it all behind me and chose to not actively judge my father for it. And for a long time I was at least able to hide my feelings, and I even had a handful of years where I gaslit myself into thinking I didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle, you know?

But now, as I think about spending my life with you, I’ve been thinking about them. The way he treated her.”

She nods, outstretching her hand, finding mine.

She weaves our fingers together, squeezing.

I’ve not told Avery much about my parents, and since she met my father the same day she met me, she knows him.

She sees the women he brings to events, the ones who show up hopeful for a date, the perfume that trails him when he comes back to the office after a long lunch.

I’ve never had to tell her that he’s a womanizer because she has eyes. She’s intelligent.

Finally, I look up into the eyes of the woman I fell for the same day I met her.

They say love at first sight is bullshit, but it’s not.

The day I laid eyes on Avery Bennett, I knew I wanted to be a husband and a father.

I saw it all right there in the span of ten seconds of intimate eye contact that she was the one.

And I’ve never doubted myself, not once.

Still, sharing this shit feels foreign–and it is, since I’ve never done it.

“I don’t remember that much. My therapist warned me as I got older that a lot of the specifics about our life around the time my mom passed would grow fuzzy.

Repressing trauma as a protective mechanism.

” I sip my espresso and ignore the cramp of emotion that hits when Avery places her hand on my thigh, kneading comfortingly.

“But when I was in junior high, a kid made a joke once. And honestly I don’t even remember what he said but it was about my mother, so when I got home, I Googled her.

Well, I Googled George and Margot Mercer. ”

She continues to soothe me, her small hand tracing welcome patterns onto my thigh as she props her chin on her fist, blinking up at me. “What did you find?”

I shake my head. “Articles. Tons of tabloid and newspaper articles all telling me that my father had an affair that led to my mother being killed in the heat of the moment. I remember seeing the word affair so many times that it lost meaning.”

“Sutt,” Avery breathes, my nickname soft and effusive on her lips.

“He cheated on her, Avery. He cheated on her and created a situation where he wasn’t just disloyal and disrespectful but he gambled her safety. And she lost. And so did I.”

Over the years, Uncle Ford has urged me to talk to my father, making comments alluding to there being another side of the story that I haven’t considered. I love my Uncle Ford but I also know that he and my father are close. What he says is always tinged with consideration of their relationship.

“Has he told you that he cheated?” Avery asks quietly, her words made light and gentle so as to not upset me. I reach down, collecting her hand from my thigh, and interlock our fingers.

“We don’t need to talk about this anymore. I just wanted you to know that I thought about what you asked me—and that’s where all this is surfacing from. The wedding. Marrying you. But I’m promising you now to stay focused on that and move forward. I’m sorry about last night.”

She shakes her head, light brows pulling together, a cute wrinkle in her nose.

“I don’t want you to shove it all back down, Sutton.

In fact, I think it’s good it’s all coming to the surface now.

” She wraps her arms around one of mine, and slides off her barstool to press her lips to my cheek.

“I want you and your dad to work it out. But no more violence, okay? Last night scared me.”

That was so out of left field for me. I haven’t been physically violent since I punched my cousin Cade in the stomach when I was nine.

“I’m sorry, and I will apologize to my father today.”

Avery smiles softly, placing a hand on my chest. She tips her head against my shoulder, and walks her hand down my belly, resting her fingers on my belt.

Her lips come to the soft spot beneath my ear, and she kisses me, humming gently against my heated flesh.

“We can start today off a bit happier,” she whispers, slipping the tips of her fingers beneath my pants.

My muscles soften at her touch, but with the sunlight pouring through the windows and a full day of work waiting for us, my mind can’t downshift into something primal, not right now.

I catch her wrist and pull her onto my lap, pushing back from the counter top to allow a little more room for her tiny frame.

Her bottom lip juts out as I pinch her chin and bring our mouths together in a quick kiss. “I’m going to get the rest of the paperwork for the Odd Fellows building, then we should head in.”

Avery slides off my lap, swiping at her lips, righting her shirt. “Sounds good.”

I take her hand, stopping before she turns away. “I’m sorry about last night.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

She strokes her thumb over my hand. “Why didn’t you ever talk to me about your mom?

” She looks down at her feet, tucked into black high heels.

She’s working in the office today, and not staging, and these are my favorite days.

When we’re at Mercer Properties together, though divided by a wall, still together.

I shake my head. “It’s been so long… I don’t know.” I scratch the back of my neck, suddenly hot.

“When you want to talk–if you ever do–you know I’m here,” she says, smiling gently before lifting her bag from the counter. “Ready?”

I get to my feet, and nod. “Ready.”