Page 29
Story: One More Chance
And I didn’t want to give them to her.
“I guess I should be getting you back if you’re dressing,” Tyler said.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Almost eleven.”
“Then yes, I really need to be getting back.”
“Something waiting at your house?”
“My job in the morning?”
“That’s right. The little clothing store thing.”
“Ha, ha, ha.” I stuck my tongue out at him, and he threw his head back and laughed.
“Don’t tempt me like that. It might take another hour for me to get you home.”
“You’d need my permission first.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t think I’d have any trouble getting it,” he said.
I shook my head at him before I helped him pick everything up. We tossed the trash into a small plastic bag and put everything in the trunk. Then he helped me into his car and drove me back to my place. I still wasn’t a fan of the fact that he knew where I lived now. What if he popped by randomly and Brody was with me? My mind raced at lightning speed while he drove silently through town. Once we got to my place, Tyler got out and rushed around to open my car door.
“Thank you,” I said as he helped me out.
“Let me walk you to your door.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Ana, it’s what men do. It’s just to your door. I’m not asking to come in.”
“Tyler, that chivalry type of nonsense isn’t necessary. It’s just us. You’re fine.”
“Let me treat you the way you deserve. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Tyler, no.”
Disappointment rushed over his features before he looked at my house. I knew I was no longer being conspicuous about hiding something. After all, he was a lawyer. His bullshit meter was fine tuned. But he couldn’t go barging in and find out about Brody. Not like that.
If I was going to tell him he had a son, it needed to be done with tact. He didn’t need to be blindsided or slapped across the face with it. He needed to hear it from me, not get the information secondhand.
He deserved at least that.
“Thank you for a great night,” I said.
I leaned over and kissed his cheek, but I could tell he wasn’t happy.
“Talk soon?” I asked.
He nodded, but he didn’t say anything.
I turned my back on him and started for my front door. I opened it a crack, slipped through, and closed it behind me. I knew what I was doing. Soon, everyone would be on the same page. I’d have a formal sit-down with him and tell him what had happened the day we fought. I’d tell him I hadn’t wanted to tell him about Brody because I hadn’t wanted to hold him back, and he would understand. I knew what I was doing. I had a plan.
Everything was going to be okay.
Right?
Tyler
As I smoothed my hands down the front of my suit, I sighed. My date with Ana still weighed heavily on my mind, even after twenty-four hours. Not only had she not told me she loved me back, but I knew now more than ever that she was hiding something from me. Granted, I hadn’t given her a lot of space to say those words back to me, but I had figured my admittance would at least get her to open up a little bit.
But all it seemed to do was close her off more.
I was almost ready to open my services in my office building. I had unloaded the last of my clients I had back in Massachusetts and collected the last of their payments, referring some of them to a woman I knew who would make a shark of a defense lawyer one of these days. My parents were throwing me a party at their place—a wonderful, Beverly-Hills-esque party where I hoped to snag a few clients. People in those kinds of places kept men like myself on retainer, and if I could snag three or four of them, I’d be set.
Building my reputation was the key, and the only way to do that was by putting my best foot forward.
I buzzed by the office and put the finishing touches on some online and website advertisements of my services, then headed over to the party. My parents had been kind enough to throw me this party without me paying a cent for it, so I was going to show up and put on my best successful son shtick. My father worked with some of the state’s richest men and women because of his profession, so his offer to help me network would come at a high price.
Specifically, tolerating my mother’s drunkenness.
The second I stepped foot into their home, I heard my mother laughing. It wasn’t that refreshing sort of laughter many sober people gave. I rolled my eyes and closed the door, then cleared my throat.
“There you are, Son! Richard, this is my boy. You remember Richard, right?” my father said.
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