My Boyfriend's Dad Page 7

  “Kylie, do you want me t—?”

  She shut the door and walked up onto the curb before I could get another word in. The only thing I could do was drive home and let her process. Chew on things for a little while. It was painfully obvious she’d been thinking about children for a while, and I wasn’t going to lead her on. She deserved better than that.

  But I didn’t want to lose her over something I didn’t want immediately either.

  Kylie

  “All right, spill,” Alyssa said. “We never go out for drinks unless Adam’s fucked up somehow.”

  “He hasn’t fucked up,” I said. “I just…learned something about him that’s bothering me.”

  “Is he secretly moonlighting as a gigolo? Because I swear I saw him standing on the corner a couple weeks ago with his leg sticking out.”

  “You’re insane. You know that?” I asked.

  “Talk to the all-wise oracle.”

  “Not the word I would use to describe you.”

  “Talk to the always-sarcastic oracle.”

  “That’s better,” I said with a grin.

  My glass of crimson wine was set down in front of me and my mouth salivated. A harsh, dry, deep red wine for a harsh, dry, deep truth. I’d spent days thinking about the conversation I’d had with Adam in the elevator, and it had me rethinking my entire plan. Our entire plan. I knew Alyssa would be able to shed some serious light on the situation, so I figured a girls’ night out on a Friday was a nice way to start. If things went well with the conversation, we could drink to my future. If things went south, we could drown my sorrows in alcohol.

  “So what brings us out on this Friday night girls’ night? We haven’t had one of these in months,” Alyssa said.

  “We need to make it a monthly thing,” I said.

  “More like a weekly thing. Now stop stalling. What’s happened?”

  “So, the first development is that Adam and I are moving in together.”

  “What? That’s amazing! When the hell did this happen? Why didn’t you call me immediately?”

  “It was sort of a whirlwind thing. He came to my door a few nights ago and, out of the blue, said ‘let’s do it.’”

  “So naturally you guys did it before doing it,” she said with a grin.

  “Shut up,” I said as my cheeks flushed.

  “Finally, the dry spell has been broken. The dry spell is done, everyone! We need shots!”

  I sank into the booth as two shots were placed in front of us.

  “To sex,” Alyssa said.

  “I’m not toasting to sex.”

  “Then to moving in together,” she said.

  “I’ll toast that for now,” I said.

  I threw back the disgusting vodka before trying to rid the taste of it with my wine.

  “Okay, so you’re moving in together. Have you found a place?” she asked.

  “Yes, we have. Osprey Heights.”

  “Oh, fancy living,” she said. “Nice. When do you guys move in?”

  “In, like, a little less than a month. We put a deposit down on the place and everything,” I said.

  “So what’s the issue? This is what you’ve wanted for an entire year. What did he shit on?”

  “Well, Sawyer and Susan had their little girl a couple days ago, so we went to go see them.”

  “How’s the new momma?” she asked

  “Really good. Petrified about everything, but that’s normal with her fluctuating hormones and the blood loss she’s experiencing. And she’s breastfeeding, so that throws an entirely new emotional battlefield into the mix.”

  “Good, good. I mean, not good about the battlefield thing, but you get what I’m saying. When do we get to the part where Adam cocked things up?” she asked.

  “He was uncomfortable the entire time we were at the hospital. I mean really uncomfortable. Like, standing in the corner with his arms crossed uncomfortable.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “So I asked him if he was okay and of course my mouth ran away from me.”

  “You asked him if he wanted kids,” she said.

  “And he said no.”

  “Wait, what? I thought you said he wanted kids.”

  “That was sort of something I read into a little too much I think. It was more of me talking about the kids I wanted and him nodding in agreement.”

  “Kylie, come on. You’re smarter than that.”

  “The conversation happened my junior year. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”

  “That was only, like, a year and a half ago, Kylie.”

  “Alyssa, he told me he doesn’t want kids. At least not in the near future. He threw out an arbitrary date like he did the first time I mentioned moving in.”

  “What arbitrary—”

  “A decade from now.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “He said he might want kids a decade from now, when I’m in my mid-thirties.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Yeah. And now I’m worried he doesn’t even want to move in with me, that he’s just doing it because that’s what I want. Every time I talk about getting new furniture or packing up, he shuts down and gets quiet, almost like he’s backtracking. It’s weird. He doesn’t seem excited about any of this at all,” I said.

  “So, one: We’re going to table the kid thing for a second. There’s a good chance he thinks you’ve brought it up because now that you two are moving in together all of this stuff is supposed to happen.”

  “I don’t want kids now. But in the next three or four years? Yes.”

  “Well, have you told him that?” she asked.

  “We’ve barely talked since this all went down. I was angry at first, and now I’m just worried.”

  “Okay, well, there’s a good chance he’s acting weird because he thinks you want kids now. That’s the first thing that has to be cleared up. You need to tell him in no uncertain terms that you don’t want kids now that you’re moving in together.”

  “Do I tell him that I do want them in three or four years?” I asked.

  “Yes, you do. But maybe not now. You know Adam. You know how he is. The second change pops up that centers around anything besides that production whatever of his, he gets weird. He’s artistic. He probably thinks it’ll fuck with his muse or something.”

  “I still don’t understand that concept,” I said.

  “No one does because it’s Adam. Kylie, you’re only twenty-four. I love you, but your life doesn’t have to work on the strict timetable you have it on. You’ve got plenty of time to have children, and he’s got plenty of time to change his mind—like he has on this moving in together thing. You said he came to you, right?”

  “I think his dad might’ve talked to him, though.”

  “Who cares? Sometimes parents need to talk some sense into their children,” Alyssa said. “Either way, he approached you about it. Not to talk, but to tell you it was happening, that he was ready.”

  “He did, yes.”

  “The tension and the weirdness? It comes with every major life change, Kylie. It might not be that way for you, but let’s face it: No one’s like you. No one can weather life’s bullshit with a stoic face the way you can. The two of you just got out of a major fight and threw yourselves into a major relationship development. That’s a lot for anyone,” she said.

  “I know,” I said with a sigh.

  “Give him some time to adjust. Get yourselves moved into this new place. And after a few months, when things are settled and boxes are unpacked, bring up the topic by starting with the fact that you don’t want kids right away but you do see them for your future. Go from there.”

  “Here you go, ladies,” the waitress said.

  “Oh, we didn’t order any more shots,” I said.

  “I know, but the two men at the bar did for you,” she said. “They’re fruitier, so not as harsh as the last shots. Enjoy!”

  “The guys at the bar?” Alyssa said. “Who?”

  I
looked over and saw Ryan waving at me. Standing next to him was Doug Walter, Ryan’s right-hand man at the company.

  “Who are those tasty men?” Alyssa asked.

  “The one waving is Mr. Tucker, and the man with the salt-and-pepper hair standing next to him is Doug Walter.”

  “Wait, that’s Adam’s dad?” she asked.

  “You don’t recognize him?” I asked.

  “Hush, hush, hush. They’re coming over here,” she said.

  I furrowed my brow at my best friend as she fluffed her hair out. What in the hell had gotten into her?

  “You going our way tonight, ladies?” Doug asked.

  “Hello, Mr. Walter,” I said.

  “What in the world are the two of you doing in a corner booth by yourself?” Ryan asked. “Where’s Adam?”

  “Oh, this is a girls’ night,” Alyssa said. “No boys allowed. Sorry.”

  “Well, I did technically ask him to come out with us,” I said. “But he said he was busy and couldn't make it.”

  “You invited a penis to our girls’ night?” Alyssa asked.

  “Can you not use that word in front of my boss, Alyssa?”

  “It’s okay. I’ve heard the word penis before,” Ryan said.

  I wanted to melt into my seat and wash out through the pipes of the building.

  “We saw you two sitting over here and figured we’d send over something to complement both of the drinks you have,” Doug said.

  “Well, it looks great. Thank you,” Alyssa said. “Ready to take the shot with me, Kylie?”

  I looked over at Ryan and watched as a smile bloomed across his cheeks.

  “Sure,” I said. “I’ll do a shot in front of my boss. Why not?”

  Doug and Ryan both laughed as we tossed them back. It wasn’t as harsh as the first one but still not my cup of tea. I quickly washed it down with the last of my wine, grimacing as I did so.

  “Not a shot girl I see,” Ryan said. “Here, let me get you another glass of wine.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I promise, Mr. Tucker.”

  “She really knows how to make a man feel old,” Doug said.

  “The two of you want to join us?” Alyssa asked.

  “So you’re going to rag on me about inviting Adam, but you have no problem inviting my bosses to sit down and drink with us?” I asked.

  “Old and professional. Just what I want with my Friday night,” Doug said jokingly. “You know, Ryan and I go way back. We’ve known each other for almost—”

  “Don’t say that number,” Ryan said as he approached me. “Your wine, Kylie.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Ryan situated himself in the booth next to me, prompting me to scoot over and give him more room.

  “But yes, we have known each other for a time,” he said. “We go all the way back to college.”

  “Like we do,” Alyssa said. “Come on, Doug. Sit down with me.”

  “I’d love to, beautiful, but I do have to get going. Just make sure my friend here gets home with his pants on.”

  My jaw dropped as Doug shot me a playful wink.

  “Alyssa, it’s been a pleasure,” Doug said as he took her hand. “I hope we run into each other again soon.”

  She smiled brightly as Doug kissed her hand. He finished off the rest of his amber liquid before walking the glass to the bar, and Alyssa followed him with her eyes until he headed straight out the door. I looked over at Ryan sitting next to me, grinning at Alyssa’s obvious interest in his friend.

  “So, Mr. Tucker,” Alyssa said, “I didn’t recognize you without the monkey suit.”

  “The tail gets in the way when I sit down in chairs,” he said.

  “Do you come out much? You know, to the Portland bar scene?” I asked.

  “I try to let loose and have fun when I have the time. I hired this great CPA who’s making my nights a lot easier at work,” he said.

  Alyssa tossed me a look I couldn’t decipher before she held up her hand.

  “Don’t you do it,” I said.

  “Another round of shots for our table, please!” she called out.

  “I really hate shots,” I said.

  “There’s a technique to them if you don’t want it to burn or taste bad,” Ryan said.

  “Then teach me, because they’re gross,” I said.

  “With pleasure.”

  He showed me how to toss it all the way to the back of my throat. It didn’t hit my tongue and it didn’t have time to break down, so it burned minimally and tasted almost like nothing as it went down. Which was fine. I hated all the components of raw liquor. I didn’t see the point in drinking alcohol I couldn’t taste, but Alyssa quickly ordered another round, and soon I was four shots and three glasses of wine in while sitting next to my boss and the father of my boyfriend.

  And my mouth unleashed.

  “I wish Adam would’ve come out,” I said.

  “Uh-oh,” Alyssa said.

  “I do. He’s been so weird,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Ryan asked.

  “Kylie, I think it’s time we get you home,” Alyssa said.

  “He doesn’t want kids. Did you know that, Ryan?” I asked. “No kids. At least not for the next decade. Apparently he doesn’t want to knock me up until I’m thirty-five. I might as well be sixty by that point.”

  “And that’s enough for tonight,” Alyssa said. “Mr. Tucker, if you’ll excuse us.”

  “Of course,” he said. “Do you need any help?”

  “Nope,” Alyssa said as she reached for my arm. “I’ve got it. I should’ve known better. Kylie’s always been a lightweight.”

  “I bet he doesn’t even want to move in. He won’t talk about it, won’t pick out furniture. He’s been weird. Not talking. Not talking to me. Not talking about the baby—”

  “What baby?” Ryan asked.

  “Sawyer had his kid,” Alyssa said.

  “No kids for me,” I said. “No kids for Adam. No future I want. Why doesn’t he want kids, Ryan? I want kids. Does he not want kids with me? I think I’d be a good mother. Does he not think I’d be a good mother?”

  “And let’s put your arm over here and…bye, Mr. Tucker!” Alyssa called out.

  I didn’t even remember Alyssa dumping me into my bed that night.

  Adam

  I walked up the steps to Kylie’s apartment and paused at her front door. We hadn’t spoken much since the incident at the hospital. She had called briefly the other day to ask me out with her and Alyssa, but I’d been too busy shooting some footage in the park. I smoothed my hands over my torso before knocking on her door, preparing myself for the inevitable argument that was about to ensue.

  But when she opened that door and gazed up into my eyes, I choked.

  “Adam,” she said. “Hey there.”

  “Hi, Kylie. Could I come in?” I asked.

  “Of course. Yeah. Sure. I just…I was making some coffee. Do you want some?”

  “I’d love some. Thanks.”

  I looked around her apartment and saw the few boxes she had already packed up. They were against the wall and pressed into corners. They were small boxes that must have held the trinkets I didn’t see strewn around her apartment, like the small frogs she’d started collecting after one found its way into her bed in her dorm at college. Alyssa had teased her relentlessly about it, and it had simply stuck. Everywhere she went, she noticed every frog and brought up the hilarity of that story. I bought her a glass frog from a trip I took during her sophomore year, and she had been accumulating them ever since.

  And the random books she kept piled up on her coffee table were no longer there, fanned out and glaring at me with their dated covers. I didn’t see as many shoes strewn about in corners and her small closet was wide open. She was in the throes of packing up for our new apartment, and I hadn’t lifted a finger to pack away anything.

  The coffee smell that filled the room ripped me from my trance.

  “Smells good,
” I said. “New blend?”

  “Stronger blend,” Kylie said.

  “Your office hours catching up with you?” I asked.

  “I’ve been bringing a little bit of it home. Just looking over past files and making sure there are no other errors to be caught. Your father’s last CPA was sloppy at best.”

  “Then it’s a good thing he hired you,” I said.

  She looked at me with a pained expression on her face, and it dawned on me: That was the first compliment I’d ever given her about taking this job with my father. And with that guilt surfaced every little thing we’d encountered over the past two months. Hell, over the past year. So many things had fallen apart between us and so many things had gone astray. It was happening to us more and more lately. The silence and the days gone by without speaking to each other. I used to get so excited when she asked me to go out with her and Alyssa. But last night? It had been nothing for me to turn her down.

  I hadn’t been out with her and her best friend for months.

  “Creamer and sugar, just like you take it,” Kylie said.

  “Oh, I don’t put creamer in my coffee anymore,” I said.

  “You don’t?” she asked. “Since when?”

  “Since I got sick on spoiled creamer about eight months ago.”

  “Wait, you got sick on spoiled creamer? How did I not know about that?”

  The tension grew between us as I quickly took the mug from her hands.

  “It’s fine. Thank you. It smells great.”

  “No, no. I’ll drink this one. Let me make you another,” Kylie said.

  “You hate sugar in your—”

  “Just let me make you another one, damn it.”

  The harshness of her tone blanketed her apartment with a reality neither of us could admit to. Something as simple as coffee creamer had become a blatant beacon for the rift between us. As I watched her stand at her small kitchen counter and scratch her calf with her other foot, I thought back to the better times between us, the times when we were on the same page and as happy as we’d ever been. She’d been away from her manipulative parents and I’d been working myself out from underneath the sharp shadow my father and his money cast. We had agreed on everything, finished each other’s sentences, had the same life trajectory at one point.