Page 21

“I’m looking forward to meeting your father,” Britt said as I pulled up to the quiet restaurant. She placed a tentative hand on my thigh, but I didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, I peered out the window, looking around for my father’s truck. He’d flown out to see me, so I knew it wasn’t in the parking lot, but better to search for a nonexistent truck than face my wife who was intent on divorcing me.

“Is everything okay?”

No. Everything was not okay. It hadn’t been since the minute I left her hotel room in Vegas, and I couldn’t pretend it was anymore.

I swept my gaze to hers, taking in her tight black dress and pouty red lips. She’d dressed up tonight, and in any other context, it would feel like a first date. Oh, how wishful my little heart was. Her concerned brows and darkened eyes only served to remind me that was never going to happen.

Britt and I were apparently the epitome of the right person, the wrong time. We were supposed to be together. I could feel it in my bones, but after everything we’d been through, I knew it wasn’t a possibility anymore.

There was no way around it. The love of my life didn’t want me. It wasn’t some huge misunderstanding. Britt just didn’t want me. Erik only proved that point when he came over and apologized at the Players’ Ball. Apparently, she’d faked an entire relationship with him, and I could only assume that was because I wasn’t taking the hint.

“You’ve been a little quiet,” she whispered, trying to coax an answer out of me.

Typical Britt. Concerned about my well-being even though I was just her friend. Always so polite.

She wet her bottom lip and stopped herself from saying something. I ignored the yearning in my chest to kiss away her anxiety because she wasn’t mine. She was hell-bent on believing that I cared for Olana more than her, and I got it. I’d never fully cut it off. Even now I felt an obligation to help my ex, but that didn’t negate the way I felt about Britt. Not that she wanted to hear about it anymore.

I had to face it.

I’d lost her.

Not just as my wife but as my best friend.

“Matty?”

“I’m good,” I sighed out, gently pushing her hand off me because my dick was unfortunately getting involved in all this heightened emotion. I swore she could just look at me and my cock would spring to attention.

“You sure? Because you’ve been acting a little off.”

“Just got a lot of things on my mind.” Not only was I having to deal with the reality that she didn’t want me, but I was having to deal with it under the backdrop of her meeting my father. The man who hated me and told me whenever he could what an abject failure I was.

What would she think when she met him? Would that solidify everything she thought about me? That I wasn’t worth it. That I was a loser who couldn’t keep his family together and spent too much time focusing on my ex?

This was a fucking nightmare. I remembered all the things she said in Vegas. The excitement that glinted in her eyes at the thought of being married to me. Was that all a lie?

“Dinner should be nice,” she said, and it soured my mood. Britt was too polite for her own good. She knew she was walking into the viper’s den, and she was still willing to do it because she wanted to divorce me that badly.

“Don’t say that. It’s a lie.”

“It’s not. You and your dad may not be close, but having dinner with the man who had a part in bringing my best friend into the world sounds pretty awesome.”

Best friend… Did she have to keep pointing it out? Best friend. Not her husband. Not her partner. Not even her fucking boyfriend. I’d been friend zoned so hard that the metaphorical punch in the stomach made me want to vomit.

Britt was mine for only a second, and it was a fact I would have to face sooner or later.

Without a word, she slipped her hand in mine, interlocking our fingers. “Everything’s going to be okay.” Those were the words I’d been saying in my head for the last few hours. My mouth was dry as I looked her in the eyes, and the realization hit me like a sledgehammer. Everything would not be fucking okay. The only reason my dream girl was touching me and in my presence was because she didn’t want me.

Not only that. She was about to have dinner with my father and see the shitshow that my mom left behind. It wasn’t all daisies before she passed, but my mother made things tolerable. She made my dad happy and left behind a bitter drunk when she died.

This entire situation was fucked.

“I’m here for you.”

Her smile.

Damn. It made my heart stop every single time. All I saw when she did that was a future I’d been hoping for. One I could never have because timing was never on our side.

The odds were against us. If it wasn’t Erik getting in the way, it was Olana. As if I didn’t have enough to deal with at the Players’ Ball, Olana showed up. Following me around, drinking away, and only making her condition worse. All because I didn’t want to be with her anymore, and she was using it as a way to manipulate me.

I was tired of this. I was tired of being the crutch for others. Everybody wanted a piece of me except for the one person I would give everything up for.

“Thanks, Britt.”

I cut my gaze to her, trying my hardest to feel positive about tonight. I had no idea what my father would say, but I was almost certain this would be my last pleasant conversation with Britt. Once she saw how selfish and mean my dad was, she would drop me and our friendship as quickly as she planned on signing those divorce papers. Divorcing the woman of my dreams sucked, but it was the only thing we could do. If she didn’t want me, then how long could I keep chasing her before it became painfully obvious that I was making a fool of myself?

“Come on,” I whispered, squeezing her hand and studying her perfect red manicure. I ignored the fact that her hand fit perfectly in mine, because again, that would just make things worse. “Let’s get this night over with.”

Britt let me hold her hand the entire walk to the restaurant. In silence, I took the time to memorize what it felt like to be with her like this. Her thumb rubbing across my palm, offering quiet reassurance. Her perfume drifting in the air. We were married, and if this was the only time we’d publicly be together, then I was going to relish it.

When we stepped into the restaurant, I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her into my side. She squealed as she looked down at my hand, somewhat surprised by the move, but she didn’t back away. In fact, she placed her palm over my hand and leaned in.

Fucking perfect.

The waiter grabbed a couple of menus and asked us to follow him, and when I realized where he was going, I slowed.

“I thought we were sitting out here tonight?”

“No sir. Mr. Mathieson requested a private room.”

My eyebrows shot up my forehead. A private room? What the hell was my father going to say that he wanted none of the other patrons to hear?

As the waiter opened the door to the small room, my father was at the end of a large square table, looking surprisingly well in a brand-new navy sports jacket.

“Ah, Ben. I’m glad you decided to show up.” My father grinned, and if I didn’t know him, I’d almost say he was happy to see me. Stone-cold sober, my dad looked bright and healthy for the first time in a long time, which was confusing. He stood, offering me a hug, but I didn’t accept it. I gave him a handshake instead. I was, however, surprised that he didn’t have the smell of alcohol on him. In its place was the heavy scent of the aftershave he used before my mom passed away.

Memories of my mother came to mind, soothing me in the strangest way.

When my dad’s eyes caught the girl behind me, his smile grew, and he let out an approved hum. “And this must be Brittany.” He sidestepped me, heading straight for my wife.

“She prefers Britt.”

Britt squared her shoulders, standing up straighter, accepting his handshake. “Mr. Mathieson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Effortless. Even in the worst of times, Britt’s demeanor remained natural. She refused to let anything faze her, and it was one of the things I loved about her.

Well, I loved everything about her, but that was a problem for a different day.

“Please. Call me Ben. We’re family now, aren’t we?” It felt like he was cracking a joke, but neither one of us found it funny.

“Let’s just eat,” I said as I studied the table to see where my father put the papers. They weren’t there, but there was a black bag close to his chair that I assumed carried the documents. He wouldn’t show his hand this early in the dinner, that was for sure.

I pulled out the chair for Britt, and she thanked me before taking her seat. After tucking her chair in, I sat next to her and opposite my father, trying to act as a barrier between them.

Nothing much was said between us when the waiter walked in. We gave our drinks order, and he left. Then it was the three of us again, sitting in silence.

“So, Britt, how did you and Ben meet?”

“Dad,” I hissed.

Britt rested her hand on my thigh, and my body relaxed. Oh, and my cock twitched. Fuck me, I had it bad.

“It’s okay. I’m happy to talk to Mr—Ben.” Turning to my dad, she said, “I met Matty early on freshman year. We’ve been friends ever since.”

“Friends?” My dad snorted out. “That’s it? You didn’t date? Cheat on Olana?”

And there was the first fuckup of the night. Britt’s lips pursed, her first time showing she wasn’t happy to be here. She shook her head, seemingly too pissed off to give him a verbal answer.

“So you were just friends?”

“That’s what she said, wasn’t it?” I responded curtly. My dad could be a dick to me, but not to Britt. She didn’t deserve that.

“Then humor me. How did you end up married in Vegas?”

It was a good question, one I had a hard time answering myself. When we were in Vegas, it felt like we were both all in, but something changed overnight, and I could only assume it was to do with the alcohol content, and Britt got cold feet. She had been using the excuse of Erik and Olana for the past month, but neither were insurmountable blocks for us being together.

“Things just escalated,” Britt answered when she realized I wasn’t going to.

“Sounds about right for you, doesn’t it, Ben? Never planning. Always fucking up.”

“Marrying Matty wasn’t a fuckup,” Britt defended.

“But you want to divorce him?”

She didn’t answer.

“Why else would you need a copy of the marriage certificate so badly?”

He had a point, and Britt was caught off guard. I told her things were rough between us, but I was almost certain seeing my father’s bluntness for herself was more jarring.

“Doesn’t help that Matty’s always got Olana drama too,” he said with a smirk.

Yup, there was no chance of me ever getting Britt back after this dinner. Letting Olana order me around instead of dealing with my own grief was the worst decision I’d ever made, and I wondered if I was going to be paying for it for the rest of my life.

“There’s nothing going on with us.”

“You sure? Seems like she needs you now more than ever, and you’re bailing for an upgrade.”

I clenched my jaw in frustration. I was doing everything but bailing on Olana. She cheated on me yet I’m the one buying her a house to live in so she’s comfortable. She needed someone and I was willing to help her, but I wasn’t willing to be shackled to her forever.

Britt moved her hand off my thigh and toyed with her napkin. As if I didn’t need any more confirmation that she was uncomfortable with the direction this dinner was taking.

I stared at the table as I said, “I never bailed on Olana. We were never meant to be.”

My father raised his brow, and an amused smirk played on his lips. “It’s not me you have to convince.” The look he gave me was almost threatening as he slowly moved his gaze over to Britt. “So, Brittany, what do you study?” he asked, and I could have sworn Britt nearly jumped at the question.

She cleared her throat before saying, “Communications and Computer Science.”

“Sounds like an intense mix.”

“Not as intense as if I was doing it the other way around.” She knocked her knee against mine, and I felt her glaring at me, but I ignored it. I couldn’t look at her. Not with my father here ruining any chance of a friendship with her.

After all, why would she want anything to do with me when my own father didn’t?

“Ben’s the hardest working guy I know. He aces all his classes, and helps me, all the while, he has an intense training schedule for football. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone work as hard as him. Even when he doesn’t have an off day, he’ll always be there to help me.”

“I’m sure he helps you all the time,” my father said, smirking. “And I’m surprised a girl as pretty as you is as impressed with him being a kicker. You clearly don’t know much about football.” I cringed. That was the wrong thing to say. “Did you know he’s only on the field for less than a minute throughout the entire game?”

I could almost feel Britt’s anger vibrating off her.

“Being a kicker is one of the hardest positions on the team. Not only do you have to be ready to kick a ball accurately and consistently at a second’s notice, but most of the time the game is resting on your shoulders. The pressure Matty has to deal with while kicking at a collegiate level shows how mentally capable he is and that he’s one of the strongest players on the team. I have nothing but admiration for him.”

Then the room went silent as we all took in Britt’s words.

“Wow.” My dad looked straight at me with astonishment. “What on earth did you do to make this woman think so highly of you?” I didn’t dignify that with an answer. “Gotta admit, I can see why you decided to dump Olana for her. Olana would tell you the truth. No bullshit, but Britt defends it. She’s the best thing to ever happen to you.”

This was it. The entire night was already a disaster, and we hadn’t even started eating yet.

“Have you all had enough time to look at the menu?” Our waiter popped his head around the doorframe and smiled. He had no idea how tense it was getting in here.

“We’re ready,” I said, figuring the sooner we got our food, the sooner we’d be able to get out of this mess.

Britt grabbed my hand under the table, and it was shaking, so I rubbed my thumb across her palm, hoping it would help calm her down.

When I turned to check on her, she gave me a small, placid smile and blushed. God, she was so beautiful.

Then she did something I wasn’t expecting. She rested her forehead on my shoulder before rolling her face forward and keeping her head there. I felt this burning need in my gut to keep her safe by wrapping my arm around her, but it wasn’t my place, even if we were technically married.

“Isn’t that cute?” my dad mocked, looking between us. “Like the perfect little couple. I wonder how Olana fits into all this?”

“She doesn’t,” I stated. Why did everyone still think me and Olana were a package deal? We were done. We had been for months, so anyone suggesting we were end game was annoying as fuck at this point.

“So, you’ve dropped her?” My father was shocked. “She needs your help, and you respond by marrying someone else? Gotta admit, I didn’t think you were the type to just shy away from your responsibilities, but then again, isn’t that why you haven’t bothered to see me?”

Responsibilities? She was lucky she was getting any help from me at all.

Britt’s body stiffened.

“Hey, Britt. Did you know the reason why your husband hasn’t bothered to see me in three years is because he doesn’t want me to sell our house.”

“What does that have to do with not seeing you?” Britt asked.

My dad looked between the two of us with mock shock. “Wow. You’re married and you’ve told her nothing about your life at home. Maybe you aren’t as stupid as I thought.” He turned back to Britt with a smug smile on his face. “Ben’s mother passed away his senior year of high school. She left her half of the house to Ben, who has told me he won’t sign off on selling it until he’s twenty-one.”

“It’s the truth. That was part of the stipulation in her will.”

“Then why haven’t you agreed to sell it yet? You’ve been twenty-one for six months, and yet you still won’t even entertain the idea.”

“That’s because I know what you’ll do with your half of the money.”

“Why does it matter to you what I do? It’s not like you care.”

“That’s not true,” I said. The sole reason I was protecting the house was because I knew my father’s assets well enough to know it was all he had left. He’d spend that money in a couple of months if he had unfiltered access to it.

“I’m not ready.” I closed my eyes, feeling more vulnerable than I had in a long time. I didn’t want to say it out loud, but another thing holding me back was my mom. Selling it felt like I was getting rid of the memories of her and ergo, the only good thing about growing up.

“You’re not ready? But you haven’t been back to the house since you graduated high school. It’s so easy for you, Ben. You don’t live in that house day in, day out. You don’t have to be smacked in the face with your dead wife’s memory every second of the day. You don’t have to be reminded of the pain and suffering she went through before she died. You don’t have to go through her things, thinking about what you should keep. I do. Every single day I’m reminded of her and how her life was cut short. I sit in that house wallowing because I have to accept the fact that I’ve lived out my best years since my only chance of happiness is in the ground.”

I closed my eyes taking in his words. All the things he said were things I felt, I’d just never been able to articulate them.

“I just can’t.” I had nothing else to say, and I probably gripped Britt’s hand a little tighter than I should’ve. If I was causing her pain, Britt didn’t complain. She never did, and maybe my father was right. Maybe I had taken her unwavering allegiance for granted all these years.

“It’s to spite me, isn’t it? I was never a good enough father to you, and you were never shy about telling me. I can take some blame. I own it. I was always busy working. Your mom was the one that was there for you. She cherished you. Told you everything you did was perfect even when it was shitty behavior. Pretty much what’s happening right now. You have the ability to change things for me, and you won’t.”

I could almost see the questions whirring through Britt’s mind, and I regretted not explaining the background between my family before dropping her into this.

“You drink too much, Dad.” That was putting it politely, but I didn’t want to go over how I had to pick him up from bars in the middle of the night before my mom died, or that I found out he was barred from almost every place that serves liquor near our house. I wasn’t being selfish. I was doing this for him.

“And you think leaving me in that haunted house is going to make me drink less?” He laughed bitterly.

“I think it’s better that you have a place you can come home to than living on the streets where I’d never be able to find you.”

He raised his brows, and I had to admit, he looked a little hurt by the comment. My dad was a force to be reckoned with when he wanted to be. He could be spiteful and mean, but I had never seen him quite as broken as this before.

“So you think I’m going to use all the money on booze?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Well—”

“Who ordered the penne pasta?” The waiter came in just in time, and that tip I gave the restaurant over the phone clearly helped with getting the order rushed through.

“I did.” That was the last thing I said before plowing through my meal and trying to make this evening end as soon as possible.