My Boyfriend's Dad Read online

  I’d done this to her.

  I’d done this to the woman I claimed to love.

  “I don’t,” I said.

  If I didn’t know any better, I could’ve sworn I saw something akin to relief wash over her face.

  “Then why in the world did you come to my apartment and tell me you did if you didn’t really want to?” Kylie asked.

  I swallowed thickly, knowing that my truthful answers could very well be the last words I ever spoke to her.

  “Because I thought if I compromised and moved in with you, it would give us some time to figure everything else out.”

  “So you thought that by giving me hope for our future that I would stop talking about our future.”

  I sighed as I nodded my head.

  “Adam Tucker, you really are a piece of work,” Kylie said. “What in the world am I supposed to do now? I’ve already given my notice. Adam, I’m packing up my shit.”

  “You said so yourself the other day—you can afford the apartment with or without me. So, move in. You love the place. I saw your eyes light up at that view. Take it.”

  “I can’t take it. Your father paid the deposit,” she said.

  “And you don’t have to worry about it. I’ll pay it back. Knowing him, he took it out of my trust fund or something.”

  “Which you never told me you still had by the way.”

  “Why? Does having money matter to you?”

  “If you even begin to equate me to your mother, this will be the last time you see me,” she said.

  I drew in a deep breath and tried to calm the quick swell of emotions I was experiencing.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I… It…it doesn’t matter. I can’t move in with you, Kylie.”

  “I already got that,” she said flatly.

  “But you can move in, and without worrying where that deposit or first month’s rent came from. It’s fine.”

  “Does this mean we’re breaking up?” she asked.

  “Why in the world does my not moving in with you mean we’re breaking up? I just don’t want to live with you, Kylie.”

  “So you want to fuck me but not make any sort of a commitment one way or the other.”

  “Believe it or not, it is possible for two people to be dedicated to each other without moving in, getting married, or having kids.”

  “And believe it or not, there are women out there who want that kind of thing for their lives. So I’ll ask you again: Does this mean we’re breaking up, Adam?”

  I sighed and shook my head as I gnawed on the inside of my cheek.

  “I don’t know, Kylie. I don’t know much of anything anymore. For the past three and a half years—even more than that—we’ve been fine. Things were perfect. And now they’re shit, Kylie.”

  “You think?” she asked.

  “And I’m confused about how I’m feeling.”

  “You think?” she asked.

  “Don’t do the attitude thing. Please? Can we just talk?”

  “That’s rich coming from you.”

  “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

  “I want you to tell me we have a future together! I want to know that I haven’t wasted the last four years of my life with a man who led me to believe he wanted the same things I did!”

  “I never told you I wanted kids or a house, Kylie!”

  “But you sure as hell didn’t pipe up about it when I went on and on about how I wanted those things!”

  “So it’s my fault you made faulty assumptions?” I asked.

  “It depends. Have I spent the past four years with a man who allowed me to make faulty assumptions?”

  I raked my hands down my face and groaned.

  “You’ve been so weird lately,” Kylie said. “Ever since I took this job and graduated from college, you’ve been weird. And I think I know why.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  “You’re used to routine.”

  “What? I hate routine, Kylie.”

  “You’re spontaneous, but that doesn’t mean you don’t live by a routine. For the past four years, we operated on the same schedule. I had classes during the same times, so we had our breaks at the same points during the day. Then the weekends were saved for your spontaneity. Routine during the week, the weekend for spontaneity. And I think you convinced yourself that it was a compromise. I had a routine to follow weekly, so we worked me in when you could. Then the weekends were centered around you and your ability to unleash your romantic creativity.”

  “That’s exactly what it was.”

  “Except now that routine is gone. I’m not in school anymore. We don’t have that same schedule anymore. And you’re running around like a chicken with your head cut off.”

  “Because you took a job without asking me how I felt about you working for my dad!”

  “No,” she said plainly. “Because it solidified a change in my life that directly affected how you ran your schedule, how you planned your filming times, how you moved your scenes around our designated coffee and lunch dates.”

  “I—you can’t… Do you really think…?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the kitchen counter while I scrambled for words to fight her. She couldn’t possibly be right. I was a film director. I owned my own production studio. I was a creative mastermind. I flew by the seat of my pants and followed my muse wherever it went. I didn’t flourish in routine. No artistic mind did.

  “Just tell me I’m wrong,” Kylie said. “Just form the words to say that. Form the words to argue against me, because you’ve been really good at it lately.”

  But I couldn’t.

  Yet again, I couldn’t.

  “Look, I’ve been thinking a lot about my life and the path I’m on and where it’s taking me, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

  “I know you don’t,” Kylie said.

  “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too.”

  I couldn’t believe I was about to say what was sitting on the tip of my tongue.

  “But, I think maybe we aren’t on the same path any longer.”

  The silence that hung thick between us choked off my air supply. Kylie’s eyes leveled with mine, and a fire flared behind them that I’d never seen before. Her arms slowly slid from her chest and hung at her sides. Then she pushed herself off the counter and took a step toward me.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I want you to be happy, and I don’t think I can be the person who will make you happy any longer.”

  “What?!” she asked.

  “I think I’m breaking up with you.”

  “You think? You think?! You can’t even properly break up with me, you’re that confused?”

  She took another step toward me, and for the first time in my life, I backed away from her. The motion seemed to slap her across the cheek. It jolted her back from the anger simmering in her eyes. Tears flooded her vision and I wanted to run to her, to take her in my arms and hold her close and tell her I didn’t mean it. Anything to keep her from being angry. Anything to keep me from losing the one woman in my life I’d opened myself up to completely after my mother had decimated my world.

  “Get out,” she said.

  “Kylie, I’m sorry—”

  “Get out!” she shrieked.

  I winced at the sound as I backed up toward the door.

  “I really do love you.”

  “You can go swallow those words and choke on them, Adam Tucker.”

  “I could never regret the time we spent together.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she backtracked toward the cardboard box. I watched her dip her hand into it and then raced for the door. My heart thundered in my chest as I ripped it open. Her cry of pain and hurt echoed off the corners of my mind as I ran into the hall, closing the door behind me. I heard something shatter against the door before Kylie let out a piercing cry—one that pinpointed the exact second her heart
shattered as it fell against the floor.

  I leaned my forehead against her door and sighed, listening as the woman I’d spent the past four years of my life with sobbed in the middle of her apartment.

  Kylie

  KylieOne Week Later

  “Yep, this looks like what moving with you would look like,” Alyssa said.

  I stood from the couch and turned around as my best friend maneuvered herself past the men hauling boxes.

  “It’s really good to see you,” I said with a smile.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you before now,” she said as she set down a present. “Work has been kicking my ass. Come here.”

  I wrapped my arms around her and held her close.

  The apartment was beautiful, everything I could’ve ever wanted in a living space. But it served as a harsh reminder of what had transpired over the past week. Adam had slowly come by and collected his things from my apartment. We didn’t talk or converse unless we needed to. Once, I ran across the street to the diner to get a milkshake and he was sitting there, smiling and laughing with one of his actresses while they shared a plate of fries.

  It made me sick to look at, especially when he caught me staring at them.

  Alyssa rubbed my back as tears crested my eyes. The apartment had carpet that reminded me of the kind at my office, comfortable and plush with just the right amount of give. To the left was one bedroom with an en-suite bathroom, and to the right was another bedroom with a bathroom across the hall. There was a kitchen complete with stainless steel appliances and a view to die for tucked away to my left behind a small floating bar. The massive sliding glass doors opened like French doors and poured onto a private balcony that had enough space for a couple chairs and a small table.

  “I foresee many glasses of wine being had on that balcony,” Alyssa said.

  “Care to make tonight the first one?” I asked.

  “I can’t stay all day. Gunning for this damn promotion. But yes, I’m coming back tonight with some things to nibble on and we’re busting open the bottle of wine that’s in that bag.”

  “So that’s what you brought me,” I said.

  “That and an electric wine bottle opener. None of this screw-top shit anymore because we can’t open them. You live somewhere fancy now. We have to treat it as such.”

  “It’s only fancy because it’s the smallest place in this entire building, which means I can sort of afford it.”

  “It’s still fancy,” she said. “And I’m proud of you for not letting him take this from you. Because this place? It’s definitely you.”

  “You think?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah. The light-blue walls. The cream-colored carpets. The tinted windows from the outside that let in just enough light to illuminate this place. And I hear both of the bathrooms have garden tubs. I know you love a good bath.”

  “They have decent walk-in showers too.”

  “I foresee many men escorting you into them to help you get over Adam.”

  “Stop it,” I said as I playfully slapped her.

  “Ma’am?” one of the movers asked.

  “Yes?”

  “This box isn’t labeled.”

  “I’m so sorry. There are two unlabeled boxes filled with my kitchen stuff.”

  “I’ll make sure they get there,” he said with a kind smile.

  “See?” Alyssa said as he walked into my kitchen. “They’re already gunning for you. They smell your singledom. The men of the jungle are gathering.”

  “You’re insane. Now stop that and come sit down.”

  I flopped down on my new couch. It was a moving-in present from the head of the finance department at Ryan’s company. All the new furniture in my apartment had come from people there—which was sort of odd since I’d only been working there for a month and a half or something like that. Still, they kept popping their heads in and congratulating me on the new place, asking me out to lunch and inviting me out to coworkers’ after-hour parties. It was nice, being accepted by them. Sometimes I sort of felt like I hung in limbo above everyone else due to working directly next to Ryan.

  But over the course of the past couple weeks, they’d really made me feel like I belonged somewhere.

  “Your obsession with sticky notes is serious. You really need help,” Alyssa said.

  “Look, the boxes are labeled with the rooms they go in, but the bedrooms had to be differentiated. And I knew exactly where I wanted the furniture to go, so I put sticky notes on the carpet to mark where they needed to be set.”

  “How are you going to get them off the floor if the furniture is sitting on them? Because I know it’ll bug the hell out of you.”

  “One step at a time,” I said. “Let me get Adam out of my life first.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He hasn’t come by to pick up the last box of his stuff yet. And you know how he is. I told him today was the day I was moving, and his response was, ‘I’ll come by sometime this week and get the last of my things.’ Sometime this week. Like I’m just going to sit here and wait for him to come by.”

  “You should throw it out. Oh, or burn it. We could have a burning ceremony. You know, a real purge-the-ex party.”

  “And where do you propose we hold this burning ceremony?” I asked.

  “A park?”

  I giggled and shook my head as the movers kept bringing things in. Alyssa and I sat there on the couch, staring out over the breadth of Portland. My view was perfect. There was no one across the road looking in at me because the building sat at a junction. I saw straight down the road into the endless abyss of downtown, and when the sun went down and the city came alive, rainbow colors from all the illuminated signs lit the view. All the main bars in the area lined the stretch of road I could see from the couch of my apartment, and I bet when the sun draped over the horizon it looked even more beautiful.

  “I’m so jealous,” Alyssa said.

  “You could always move in with me,” I said with a grin.

  “Don’t tempt me. I might just take you up on that.”

  “Come on! Your lease comes due in three months. Tell them you're out of there and move in. There’s an entire bedroom and bathroom ready for you if you want it.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” I said.

  “Then if I get this promotion next month? Consider it done.”

  “Ma’am?” a mover asked.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re finished.”

  “There’s an envelope on the floating bar in the kitchen for you guys. Five paper clips of money to tip you for your work. Thank you so much for helping me.”

  “Is there anything else you need? You know we can unpack for a small fee of thirty bucks,” the man said.

  “Unpacking is the easy part for me,” I said. “But thank you guys so much for your diligent work.”

  “One question. There’s a box marked ‘ex.’”

  I saw Alyssa grin out of the corner of my eye as I nodded.

  “What about it?”

  “Do you want it just left out here? I feel odd having it cross the threshold of a new apartment. Not to be nosy, but I know what a breakup’s like. You want it to stay out here? Or do you want me to kick it in?”

  “He could kick it off the balcony,” Alyssa said.

  “Stop it,” I said with a giggle. “Just prop the door open with it. This place is still a little stuffy, so circulating some air will help.”

  “Will do.”

  “And don’t forget the envelope.”

  I settled back into the couch as the men left my apartment. The new beginning felt nice, but I had to admit it felt like something was missing. The prospect of Alyssa moving in was nice, but it didn’t fill that hole the way I had thought offering her the room would.

  So, I decided to distract myself from it.

  “I know Ryan isn’t going to let me pay him back, but I really feel like I need to,” I said.

 
“Have you talked to him about it at all?” she asked.

  “I haven’t. Adam told me not to worry about it, but I know it’s not right. Ryan paid what he did for this place as a congratulatory gift for us moving in together. And since that isn’t happening anymore, I feel weird not paying him back.”

  “Well, talk to him. I know you have a couple days off to move going into the weekend, but when you get back to work, just ask him about it. If anything, that man knows how to communicate. He’ll let you know where he stands on the matter.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I hate to break this up, but I need to get back to work. But I’m coming back over for drinks later, so don’t open that bottle of wine until I get back.”

  “Trust me, I won’t. I’m actually heading out in a bit myself. Since my coworkers embraced my move and got me all this furniture, the only thing I have to purchase is a small set to go on the balcony.”

  “I wish I had coworkers like that.”

  “Come work for Ryan and you will,” I said with a grin.

  I stood and hugged my best friend tightly before I waved her off. Then I turned my back and continued looking out the glass doors. I stood there with my hands tucked behind my back, fiddling with my nail beds as I took in the expanse of the world in front of me.

  “Knock, knock.”

  I smiled at the sound of Ryan’s voice.

  “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said.

  “Come on in. It’s just me.”

  “Wow, the movers are done already?”

  “I didn’t have much, even with the furniture.”

  Ryan walk in, brandishing a beautiful bottle of champagne.

  “I saw how much you enjoyed it the night we spoke, so I figured it would work nicely as a welcome home gift.”

  “Thank you. So, what do you think?” I asked.

  His eyes scanned my apartment, and I found myself nervous about his response.

  “It’s actually pretty nice,” he said.