Page 29 of Father Knows Best (A Family Affair #1)

eighteen

. . .

geo

The Fight

After starting the journey to our rooms, we realized we weren’t ready to turn in. Ford and I found the bar located on the top floor of one of their suite buildings, and decided on a night-cap. The only other thing up here is the penthouse suite, which Sutton and Avery have for the night.

We enjoyed our drink. I found myself glancing at the elevator doors every few moments, wondering when they’d come up.

Ford had gone down to his room after our drink, and I chose to stay at the bar, waiting until I was so exhausted that I knew I’d pass out the moment I went up.

Now is the time. I’m beat, and have my mind set on bed.

I pay the tab, leave a generous tip, and head out, suit jacket slung over my shoulder by a finger.

But while walking to the elevators, yawning, my mind fuzzy from the emotions and booze, a blur of white rushes past me. At the elevator, frantically tapping the button, her garter belt and thigh highs peeking out past the short hem of her silk robe, is Avery.

“Avery?” I ask, but I don’t know why, I know it’s her.

She spins, rivers of mascara cascading down her cheeks, her eyes and the tip of her nose red.

Her hair is messy, and loose strands cling to the wetness on her cheeks.

Her robe is marked with tears, stained with makeup.

She wraps one arm around herself and the other hand stays on the button, tapping.

The doors open and she steps inside, her bottom lip wobbling in a way that makes my entire core ache.

My chest goes concave and my spine rigid–I’ve never seen Avery upset to this extent.

Emotional? Yes. But upset like this? She’s devastatingly beautiful even in her pain, but I put those thoughts aside as my son’s voice flits down the hall, calling out his new wife’s name.

A moment later he appears and my gaze cuts to him.

His eyes hold mine, full of pain and uncertainty, and then he looks into the elevator.

I don’t know if she looks at him, too, but I see his face when he spots her, and the pain that overwhelms him in just a split second.

His gaze returns to me, and I do what I need to do.

Something has happened between them.

She’s running. He’s chasing.

They need me.

I step onto the elevator just as the doors close, leaving Sutton on the top floor.

The only thing up here is the penthouse suite, and the CityScape bar.

I glance at the deck of buttons, and see that Avery has selected the lobby.

I turn to her, and find her holding her face, quiet sobs slipping between her fingers.

“Avery, you can’t go down to the lobby that way.

” I slip out of my suit jacket, and wrap it around her, tucking the ends of my sleeves into her hands, forcing her to hold it around herself.

“You can’t go down there in lingerie and a robe, sweetheart.

And tomorrow, when this is all settled, you won’t have wanted to. ”

She looks up, her honey hair curtaining her swollen cheeks. “This won’t be settled tomorrow.”

I lick my lips, my pulse ticking nervously in my throat. “What is this ?”

She sobs and I can’t stop the sobs, nor do I have the right to ask, so I pull her into my chest as the doors open.

A man stands on the other side, a roller suitcase next to his feet, a briefcase hanging from his hand.

He had the red eye and he’s here for business, no doubt, but I catch his glance as he moves to join us, and I simply shake my head.

“Catch the next one,” I tell him softly, over the top of Avery’s head. He nods, and the doors close, and I tap the PH button on the panel.

“I’m going to take you back up to Sutton, sweetheart, okay?” I tell her softly, stroking my palm up and down her back, trying not to take even a molecule of pleasure from the way she looks in my suit jacket.

“Not yet, please,” she cries, jerking out of my grip, her hand thwacking against the STOP button. The elevator slowly halts, and the overhead lights drop to a dim.

“I’m not ready,” she whispers, voice shaky, tears still streaming.

I may have missed a lot of bonding years with my son, but we always lived under the same roof, and have worked together for years.

I may not be his best friend, not just yet, but I know him.

He would not hurt Avery. He adores Avery.

He’s obsessed with her, one may even go so far as to say.

So why she’s running from him on their wedding night, I have no clue.

“What happened?” I ask her quietly, our voices slightly echoed from the small, confined space.

“Sutton, he…” she starts, but her words quickly fall off, and the tears replace anything understandable. We stand in the stopped elevator for a minute while she cries, and I reach out, stroking my hand up her arm, hoping to make her feel better.

I hate seeing her this way.

The last few drinks, which had settled nicely, are now tumultuous fire in my belly, making my lips tingle with nausea.

I hate seeing Avery cry. It’s quite possibly the most awful thing I’ve ever experienced.

“Avery, please, I can’t stand seeing you this way,” I admit, and her head lifts from my words, exposing her messy, reddened face—still goddamn gorgeous, nonetheless.

I bring a closed fist to my chest and thump it over my heart.

“It’s killing me, sweetheart. Please, let me take you back to Sutton. ”

The wobble in her bottom lip almost undoes me. “I can’t talk to Sutton.”

I file that sentence in with the very limited information I have. Sutton ran out, after her. That means he didn’t kick her out—fuck, of course he didn’t. He loves her. They just fucking married.

I restart the elevator, because we both know she’s got to go back.

I scratch at the back of my head as the elevator drags us up, quietly and smoothly until we startle to a stop. The doors open.

“Maybe I can help talk to him,” I assure her, though I have no idea what I’m walking in on. Are they arguing over something that took place at the ceremony? I can’t even begin to think of one logical reason that would have them in this state.

I extend a hand to her, and she takes it, and together we walk off the elevator into the cool hallway. On the floor, crumpled and disheveled, Sutton is slumped, head tipped forward into his hands. At the sound of the doors closing, he startles to his feet, blinking between us.

We walk quietly, Sutton leading us back to the grand, black lacquer double doors at the end of the hall. Using his key card, he pushes inside, and I guide Avery in, past him. She keeps her head down, and when my eyes meet his, I’ve never seen my son quite like this.

Genuinely worried.

I guide her to take a seat at the edge of the bed, and motion for my son to sit in the oversized leather chair in the room, near the bed. I bring her a bottle of water from the mini bar, and a box of tissues.

“What’s going on?”

Avery says nothing and continues to sniffle, while Sutton also says nothing, his leg jumping nervously as he peers up at me from his chair. I shake my head. “I’m here to help. Please, tell me what’s going on.”

Sutton pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh of frustration. “This isn’t a discussion I wish to have in front of my dad.”

I will never tire of hearing him call me Dad instead of George, Geo or father. I shrug. “We are family. And since I found your wife in the elevator in tears, I’d say your ability to solve this issue without a third-party is non-existent.”

Sutton laughs, humorlessly, then quietly breathes “Oh my god.”

“What?” I ask, looking between them, finding Avery at least looking up at me now, calming down a tiny amount. My coat has fallen from her shoulders, unintentionally, and I ignore the sting of disappointment when I notice.

“In truth, I’m not really sure what the problem is,” my son says a moment later, hands now death-gripping the chair’s arms.

Avery nudges my foot with hers, now bare, her heels abandoned beneath her. When I look at her, she tips her head back, and my eyes follow, spotting a black box, black satin ribbon beneath it.

She reaches back and passes it to me, and I knock the lid off, exposing a small black anal plug inside. I look up, splitting a curious glance between the two of them. “Okay… and?” I don’t see how this toy has caused such divide. I don’t understand and in fact, am more confused than before.

Rolling her lips together, Avery twists the lid off of the bottled water, and takes a few sips.

Letting out what seems to be a steadying exhale, she looks up at me.

“I gave that to Sutton tonight, as a wedding night gift.” She replaces the lid on the box and tosses it aside, as if even looking at it makes her sick.

She brings a wadded up tissue beneath her eye and swipes at the makeup.

“I thought once we were married, we’d explore more things…

you know, sexually. And this gift was to…

” She shakes her head, then captures it in both hands, shielding herself from us.

I glance at my worried son, then take a seat next to Avery. She slides into me, and I rest my hand on her knee. “What? Tell me exactly what you’re feeling and thinking. Sutton’s here. He’s listening.”

I’ve never mediated anything before. Most of my life has been spent walking on eggshells around my son, hoping for things to be different while being positive and hopeful.

When Margot was alive, all I really did was beg.

Beg for her to be different, to stay home, to love me, for me to be enough, for her to… stay.

But I can mediate.

I will help my son and my daughter-in-law fix this. I didn’t earn him back, and her too, only to fail them now.

I’ve failed my son too many times in the past.

I have to help now. It’s my duty.