13. Isaac

13

ISAAC

I was late.

Only three minutes, but for my dad, that was the same as an hour.

Ignoring the looks from the people around me, I hurried into the hotel and made a beeline for the elevator bank at the far end of the lobby.

I was in a bad mood, and not just because I was meeting my dad. I’d left home in plenty of time and got to the city with half an hour to spare.

That’s when everything went to shit, and now I was late when I should have been early enough to beat him here, which had been the goal of leaving so early.

My dad usually picked a restaurant or bar on the waterfront, but this time he’d chosen a bar on the rooftop of a swanky downtown hotel. Parking had been a nightmare. The underground lot was for registered guests only, and none of the public lots in a six-block radius had any open spaces.

I’d circled the hotel for almost twenty minutes trying to find a spot, and when I finally did, I’d practically sprinted the four blocks to the hotel.

Now I was pissed, flustered, and sweaty. A great way to start a conversation I didn’t want to have with someone I’d rather not see.

When I finally got to the roof, I was ten minutes late.

Fucking awesome.

“For one?” A perky hostess asked me when I approached the entrance.

“I’m meeting someone. Reservation under Whitley, for two.”

The hostess scanned a tablet in front of her. “You said Whitley for two?”

I nodded.

“I have a reservation for Whitley, party of three.” She looked between me and the tablet.

Three? What the hell. No way was my mother here too. She and my dad didn’t speak and hadn’t since I was five. I couldn’t even remember the last time they were in the same room together, not even when I graduated from high school because my father had been away on a business trip.

“Do you think there’s been a mistake?” the hostess asked, her body language going defensive, like she was prepping for me to start screaming at her.

I knew that move. Being a mechanic might be a trade job, but we still had to interact with the public, and I’d dealt with my fair share of people who took their frustrations out on whoever was behind the desk.

“I’m sure it’s just a mix-up.” I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Do you mind if I just take a quick look around to see if my father is here?”

She nodded, her shoulders relaxing and her bright smile back in place. “Of course.”

“Thanks.”

Sidestepping the hostess podium, I walked a few paces into the bar and scanned the area.

“That’s him.” I pointed to where my dad was bent over his phone and reading something off the screen. “Can I?” I asked, not wanting to just waltz in and bypass her.

She nodded. “Enjoy your stay with us.”

“Thanks.”

Every step in my father’s direction felt like it took twice as much effort as normal. I was so distracted by the meeting and the mix-up with the table that I didn’t bother looking around and just kept my gaze fixed on my dad.

He didn’t look up until I pulled out the chair across from him.

The table was set for three, which was weird enough, but only my dad was at it, a drink and his e-ink pad in front of him.

“Isaac.” Dad looked at his watch pointedly. “You’re late.”

“Sorry.” I slid into the chair. “Traffic was?—”

“You should have planned ahead.” He fixed his gaze on something over my shoulder and waved. “And anticipated the traffic.”

A moment later, a server hurried over to our table. “What can I help you with?” he asked.

“My son will have a bourbon on the rocks, and I’ll have another.” Dad didn’t even look at the server, his attention on his e-ink pad as he scribbled something on it.

The server looked at me like he was checking to see if he should ask for my ID. “I’ll be right back with those,” he said to my dad, obviously accepting that I was old enough to drink.

I sat quietly as Dad continued to scribble something on his pad.

After what felt like forever, but was probably only a few minutes, he closed the pad and tucked the pen into the case.

I braced for whatever was going to come out of his mouth.

“I’m assuming it’s pointless to ask what’s new in your life?” He picked up his glass and took a sip, the ice cubes clinking musically. “That you’re still doing the same things and not doing anything to reach your potential?”

Dad was definitely in a mood. Usually it took him more than two sentences to completely invalidate everything in my life.

“That depends on what you think I should be doing to reach said potential.” I couldn’t keep the iciness out of my voice, but I did manage to keep my tone even and calm.

“Something other than acting like you’re still in college.” He swirled the ice in his drink in a slow circle. “Although you dropped out of college, so maybe that isn’t the best example.”

I pulled in a breath and counted to five. We’d had this conversation dozens of times already. Getting mad would just cause a scene, and that would lead to more lectures and strangers knowing my personal business.

“College wasn’t for me,” I said, repeating the same script I always did when my college days came up. “Doing another two years would have delayed my training, which would have delayed my employment.”

“It would have also given you a college degree and the chance to actually do something worthwhile with your life.” He put his glass down and leaned back in his chair, giving me a once over and not hiding his disdain for what he saw.

I didn’t react. Just sat there and let him size me up.

I hadn’t dropped out of college for shits and giggles like my father made it seem, but it was pointless to remind him exactly why I’d had to drop out.

I’d gotten a full scholarship to play hockey for Rutherford College, a D1 school about an hour from where I lived. I spent two years on the team and had been one of the top scorers in the league when I took a bad hit and ended up with a severe concussion.

I had to drop out of school while I recovered because I couldn’t read or study or attend class for almost four months while the worst of the concussion symptoms went away. When I was finally given the all-clear, my neurologist told me that playing any sort of contact sport again was out of the question. I’d gotten my bell rung one too many times, and another hit could be life-altering—or fatal. I had to hang up my skates or risk brain damage and possible death.

That sent me into a bit of a spiral, and I spent the next six months living off my trust fund and trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life now that my dream of playing hockey was gone.

Eventually I got my shit together and moved to town to try and set down roots. I’d done my mechanic's training, gotten hired at the garage, and hadn’t looked back.

To anyone else, that was a success story. To my parents, it was an epic failure.

Not even a brain injury and losing the one thing in my life that made me happy was a good enough excuse to take ten months off from school or working and being a productive member of society.

“At least you’re presentable this time.” He paused as our server came up to the table, our drinks on his tray.

“It’s nice to see you’ve managed to fix that after all these years,” he added once the server was out of earshot.

I didn’t bother telling him I was wearing Jamie’s work clothes. I had a couple of dress shirts and one pair of slacks, and none of them fit me properly. The only suit in my closet was from when I was playing hockey in college, and I only owned one dress shoe, the other being MIA for the past year and a half.

All of my clothes had been purchased for either comfort or because they were good for going out. I didn’t need business clothes in my line of work, and I didn’t particularly like wearing them, so I didn’t own any.

But he didn’t need to know that.

“How have you been?” I asked, completely ignoring his digs at my appearance.

“Good. Everything is good.”

“That’s good.”

“How have you been?” he asked.

“Good.”

“Good,” he echoed.

What did it say about us that my dad and I couldn’t even exchange pleasantries without it being stilted and awkward?

“Have you seen your mother recently?”

I sighed inwardly. I’d expected this question, but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

My parents didn’t talk or communicate unless it was through lawyers, or me when they were being extra passive-aggressive.

“Not recently. The last time I spoke to her was on her birthday.”

“It’s a miracle you tracked her down,” he said bitterly. “I’ve never met anyone who makes as big a deal about their birthday as your mother.”

He wasn’t wrong on that one. My mother was the type who didn’t have one or two birthday celebrations. She had several over the course of a week and always went away for a few days with some of her girlfriends.

I didn’t bother mentioning that I hadn’t heard from either of them on my birthday since I turned eighteen.

Instead I sat quietly, waiting for him to change the subject. After twenty years of being in the middle of their crap, I was done with it.

He sipped his drink. “How is James?”

My father refused to call Jamie by his nickname and insisted on calling him James, even though no one else did. I’d stopped correcting him years ago.

“He’s good.” I made sure to keep my face and voice neutral. The last thing I needed was for my dad to figure out something was going on between us.

My dad wasn’t homophobic as far as I knew, but I was already a giant disappointment. I didn’t need to add potentially being queer and messing around with my male best friend to the list of things I’d fucked up in his eyes.

“And I suppose you’re still working at the garage?”

“I am.” I didn’t elaborate or talk up the shop. He wouldn’t listen.

“Have you at least considered taking some classes at Rutherford? You can still finish your degree part-time.”

“I don’t need a degree for my job.”

He shot me an exasperated look.

“I don’t,” I continued. “I have plenty of options for upgrading my skill set that don’t require college, and I like my job. Getting a degree would be a waste of time for me.”

“Have you utilized any of these so-called options to upgrade your skills?”

“Yes, several.”

He blinked at me, obviously not expecting that answer.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a mechanic,” I said, repeating the same script I always did when he brought up my job. “It’s a skilled trade with lots of growth potential and a growing market. It’ll always be an in-demand job, so even if I run into issues with job security in the future, I’ll be better off than most people because there will always be jobs open for people with my skills.”

“Of course there’s nothing wrong with being a mechanic.” Dad gave me an unimpressed look. “But even with all these opportunities to upgrade your skills, you’re still just a guy in a garage. Don’t you have any drive or ambition to be more? Open your own garage, or maybe transfer to the manufacturing side and get a foot in the corporate door.”

“I’m not a corporate kind of guy.”

“Clearly.” He sipped his drink.

I left mine untouched. I didn’t like bourbon, and my father knew that. But he drank bourbon, so he always ordered me one, then drank it himself when I didn’t.

“Not everyone needs to be a manager or in a corporate setting. Not everyone can own a shop or run a business. And not everyone wants that. I’m happy where I am now. Maybe that will change in the future and I’ll want something different, but until it does, I’m not going to waste my time getting a degree I have no plans on using.”

I braced for a tirade, but Dad just sighed.

“I had a feeling you’d say something like that.” He traced his finger over the rim of his glass. “I can’t say I’m surprised, but I am disappointed.”

There it was.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“I am too.” He stopped toying with his glass. “I hoped things might be different this time, but it’s obvious you’re never going to change.”

“Not in the ways you want me to.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Then I guess I really don’t have another choice.”

“What do you mean? What don’t you have a choice about?” I asked, confused by the shift in his demeanor.

This was usually the part where he lectured me. This resigned acceptance was weird.

He looked at his watch. “I’ve invited someone to join us.”

“Who?” I glanced at the empty place setting beside him. It wasn’t a mix-up?

“I asked you here because I have something to tell you,” he started, ignoring my question.

“You do?” So he really did have news, and this wasn’t just an excuse to lecture me?

“Of course. I said as much in my email.”

“You say that in every email, but you rarely have anything new to share.”

“Well, this time is different.”

Was he telling me he was retiring? But why would that matter to me? My dad was very successful at his job, but he didn’t own the company or have any sort of stake in it to pass down. When he retired, someone else would take his place and the company would continue to run like nothing happened.

“I’m getting married.”

“What?!” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I thought you just said you’re getting married.”

“I am.”

“To who?”

He was dating someone? That was news to me.

My father didn’t date, not really. He dated around and loved to show up to events with a beautiful woman on his arm, but he’d never dated anyone seriously enough to introduce me to them, or even tell me about them.

“A wonderful woman named Brianna.”

“Brianna?” I tried to place the name. Had he mentioned her before?

“Yes. We met through a work colleague.”

“And that’s who’s joining us?” I glanced at the empty chair beside him again.

He nodded. “She should be here any moment. She was waiting in our room so I could speak to you privately first.”

Their room? That explained why he’d chosen a hotel for our meeting and not one of his usual places when he traveled to the city.

I sat there, stunned.

My father was getting married to a woman I was about to meet for the first time. I wasn’t prepared for any of this.

“When’s the wedding?”

“At the end of the month.”

“This month?” I shook my head, still trying to catch up to everything he was throwing at me. “That’s in two weeks.”

“I’m aware.” He tapped his fingers against the folder of his e-ink pad. “It’s my wedding, remember?”

“I just mean that’s soon. How long have you been planning it? When did you get engaged?”

“Three months ago.”

“You got engaged three months ago?” I wasn’t a wedding expert, but didn’t most weddings take longer than three months to plan? That seemed incredibly fast. “How long have you known each other?”

“That’s not relevant.”

“It’s very relevant,” I countered. “If Brianna is going to be my stepmother, then I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to ask about the details of your relationship.”

“We met eight months ago.”

“Eight months?”

“Must you repeat everything I say?” He shot me an exasperated look. “Really, Isaac. You’re acting like a simpleton.”

“A simpleton? More like I’m acting like a son who had no idea his father was dating someone, let alone engaged and getting married in two weeks. I think my shock is warranted.”

My father didn’t answer; instead he looked toward the entrance of the restaurant, a big smile on his face.

I looked over my shoulder to get my first glimpse of my future stepmother.

I barely managed to keep my expletive to myself.

The woman walking toward us was everything my father usually went for: beautiful, voluptuous, and impeccably dressed, with perfect hair and makeup.

She also looked like she was my age.

My father preferred younger women. My mother was almost fifteen years younger than him, and most of his dates and the women I’d seen him with fell around a twenty-year age gap.

Brianna was way younger than any of those women, and I barely managed to keep my expression neutral as she approached us, beaming a big smile at my dad and waving like she was welcoming him home from a long voyage.

“Walter,” she exclaimed, hurrying up to my dad’s side and bending to plant a kiss on his lips.

I looked away as the kiss went on for an uncomfortably long time.

“I missed you,” she purred as she finally stopped sucking my dad’s face.

“Me too, darling.” Dad’s soft voice and goofy smile were nauseating.

This was the same man who used to brag about making his subordinates cry and called married men whipped. Guess he’d changed his tune in the last eight months.

“Isaac,” my dad admonished when Brianna walked to the chair beside him.

“Allow me,” I said on reflex, standing so I could pull her chair out for her.

I didn’t bother pointing out that my father was perfectly capable of hauling his ass up and playing gentleman himself. It was a power move, nothing more.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest.” Brianna beamed a smile at me and tossed her long blond waves over her shoulder. “Hi, I’m Brianna, but everyone calls me Bri, with an I .”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Isaac.” I put out my hand for her to shake, still reeling from everything my dad had thrown at me in the last ten minutes.

“Handshakes are for business deals and strangers.” She threw herself into my arms. “Families hug.”

The overwhelming scent of beauty products and perfume made my eyes water and my nose itch. Dutifully, I hugged her back, keeping my body angled away from hers so there was some space between us.

I wasn’t a hugger and being forced to hug people I’d just met made me incredibly uncomfortable. My dad knew that, but he either hadn’t informed Bri with an I , or she didn’t care. Both were equally bad in my mind.

“Walter has told me so much about you,” she gushed, finally letting me go. “I feel like I already know you.” She tittered out a laugh that sounded as fake as a seven-dollar bill.

“All good things, I hope,” I quipped, pulling out her chair.

“Of course.” She let out another of those fake laughs and slid onto the seat so I could help push it in.

My father was glaring daggers at me as I sat back in my chair. I ignored him. I was playing nice, and that was about as much as he could expect from me right now.

“Can I just say that I’m so excited to finally meet you?” Bri said brightly. “I promise I’ll be the best bonus mom to you that I can.”

I managed to not visibly react to that statement. Having a woman I’d just met and never knew existed call herself my bonus mom was more than a little off-putting.

“And I can’t wait until you meet your new brother or sister,” she added, putting one hand on her stomach.

This time I failed to keep my face blank.

My jaw dropped, and I let out a sound that was a cross between a cough and a gag.

Brianna was pregnant?

At least the expedited wedding made sense now.

“Darling,” my dad chided her playfully. “I hadn’t gotten around to telling Isaac about that yet.”

“Oops.” She looked between us sheepishly. “I’m so sorry, Wally. I’m just so excited I couldn’t wait to say something.”

“I understand.” He smiled indulgently at her. “Of course you’re excited. I am too.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”

Bri made moon-eyes at him.

I bit my tongue hard enough I tasted blood. I guessed my birth didn’t make the cut of happy times in my dad’s life.

That wasn’t really a surprise. My father had never said he wished I wasn’t born, but he’d made it clear I hadn’t been part of his plans.

Was the new baby an accident too?

New baby. The concept was so alien to me. My dad was turning sixty in a few months, and he’d spent my entire life ignoring me. Now he was having a second kid with his barely legal bride when most people were becoming grandparents and looking forward to retirement.

What the actual fuck?

They finally stopped staring adoringly at each other and looked at me expectantly.

“Congratulations,” I said, my tone even and devoid of any emotion.

Bri’s lower lip came out in a pout. “You’re not excited?”

My dad glared at me. “Of course he is. Right, Isaac?”

“It’s not that I’m not excited,” I said carefully. I wasn’t, and I was actually feeling nauseated and a bit light-headed, but I couldn’t tell them that. “This is just a bit of a shock. I need a second to process everything.”

“What’s there to process?” Dad asked, taking Bri’s hand and holding it on top of the table.

“A lot,” I said incredulously. “Ten minutes ago, I had no idea you were even dating someone, and now I’m meeting my future stepmother?—”

“Bonus mother,” Bri interrupted. “I don’t like stepmother. It makes me sound old and like I’m not an equal part of the family.”

“My mistake,” I said, my voice tight. I really didn’t give two fucks what she wanted to be called or why. “Now I’m meeting my future bonus mother and finding out I’m going from being an only child to having a baby sibling at twenty-five. Forgive me for needing a few minutes to wrap my head around everything.”

“That’s totally understandable,” Bri said. “But I want you to know that I love your dad more than anything, and I want nothing but the best for him.”

I looked between her and my dad. “Okay?” How was I supposed to respond to that?

“Isaac, you’re ruining what’s supposed to be a joyful moment in Bri’s life,” Dad said accusingly. “And in mine.”

“Sorry,” I said automatically. “I don’t mean to ruin things. I’m just not myself right now.”

“There’s one more thing we need to talk about,” Dad said, accepting my bullshit apology. I’d been apologizing for shit that wasn’t my fault for years. He knew the words were empty; he just didn’t care.

“I’m not sure I can handle any more news today,” I said truthfully. “I’m feeling a little blindsided right now.”

“We know it’s a lot,” Bri said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “But this is a good thing, Isaac. Your dad is happy, and it would be nice if you could be happy for him too.”

“How old are you?” I asked, some of my control slipping.

The audacity of a woman I’d just met lecturing me on not being ecstatic that my father was essentially replacing me was too much.

“That’s not your concern,” Dad said.

“I’ll be twenty-five in ten months,” Bri said at the same time, like that somehow negated the fact that she was almost two years younger than me.

I laughed so I didn’t start yelling.

“Bri and I have been talking,” Dad cut in before I could say anything about her age. “And now that we have the baby to think about, I’ve had to make some decisions about the future.”

“Okay,” I said when he paused.

“I’ve done all I can for you,” he continued. “I put years of my time, energy, and resources into you. I gave you opportunities most people would kill for, but you refuse to grow up and live up to your potential.”

“You’ve put time, energy, and resources into me?” I burst out, unable to keep it in any longer. “Is that what you call ignoring me for twenty-five years and trying to micromanage my life while having absolutely nothing to do with me and barely acknowledging that I exist?”

“Isaac—”

“I’ll give you resources,” I cut my dad off. “You were great at throwing money at me or my problems to make us go away, but time? Energy? Not even close.”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about.” Dad’s tone was bitter. “You’re as ungrateful as your mother, and about as useful as her too.”

“Gee, Dad, tell me how you really feel.”

“I was hoping you’d finally get your life together and stop wasting your time, but that’s obviously not going to happen,” he continued. “You’ve had twenty-five years of my full attention. Now it’s time I shift my focus elsewhere.”

“What are you saying? Are you cutting me off?”

“Not completely. You still have your trust fund, I can’t touch that, but we’ve decided it would be best if we spent the next few years focusing on our family while you either get your life together, or don’t. Your involvement with us and the new baby is up to you.”

I gaped at him.

“It’s not that we don’t want you around, it’s just we don’t think you’ll be the best influence right now,” Bri added.

I swung my gaze to her. Who the fuck was she to judge my life or what kind of influence I was?

“And it’s not just the baby we’re worried about. I don’t trust you around Bri,” my dad said.

“ Excuse me ?” I turned my attention to him. “What exactly are you implying?”

“She’s a beautiful woman, and you can’t be trusted around her. Not until you grow up.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Language,” he admonished.

“I’ll watch my language when you tell me what the fuck you meant by that.” Was my own father calling me a predator? Did he seriously think I’d try to seduce the woman he was sleeping with? The very thought made me want to gag.

“You know exactly what I meant. You think with your dick, Isaac, and I will not allow you around my wife until you can prove that you will treat her with the respect she’s owed.”

“ I think with my dick?” I let out a hysterical-sounding laugh, not caring that people around us were looking. “Where do you think I learned it from?”

“Isaac—”

“And you really think I want your sloppy seconds?” I interrupted, unable to stop now that the floodgates were open. “That I could ever be attracted to a woman who slept with my father ?”

She spluttered like I just told her a giant spider was crawling up her arm.

“In fact,” I barreled on. “I have news too. You don’t have to worry about me or my dick because I’m seeing someone.”

“You are?” Now Dad was the one gaping at me.

“Yes.” My brain was yelling at my mouth to shut the fuck up, but I was past the point of no return. “But I’m guessing that means nothing and I’m still banned from my own family for being a bad influence, right?”

“Who are you seeing? Why didn’t you mention her earlier?” Dad demanded.

“When was I supposed to shoehorn that into our conversation?” I asked my dad sweetly. “Before or after you tell me you’re getting married to a woman I’ve never met and didn’t know existed until fifteen minutes ago. Or was it when I found out that my new stepmother is two years younger than me? Or perhaps I was supposed to say something while you were calling me a predator and kicking me out of my own family because you’re scared I’m going to fuck your new wife?”

“Isaac—”

“Joke’s on you, Dad. I’m not interested in your future wife, or any woman. I’m dating a man.”

His eyes bugged out comically, and his mouth fell open. I couldn’t remember the last time my dad was shocked into silence.

Bri was just as shocked as him.

Good.

“You’re dating a man?” Dad finally spluttered.

“Yes.” I fixed my gaze on my dad.

I hadn’t planned on telling him, or anyone, about Jamie, but I didn’t regret it. If this was going to be our last conversation, I wanted him to know the truth. That Jamie was everything to me, and I didn’t need him or his new family. “It’s Jamie, just in case you were wondering.”

“James?”

“Jamie,” I corrected. “His name is Jamie, not James. And yes, we’re together.”

“But you’re not gay,” Dad slow-blinked at me.

“You’re bi?” Bri asked, taking the news way better than my dad.

“Apparently.” I pushed my chair back. “Congratulations on your engagement and new baby. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got Jamie, and he’s all I need.” I stood. “Let me know if you change your mind and want me back in the family.”

Not letting either of them speak, I strode away from the table and right out of the restaurant, my only thoughts on getting home so I could see Jamie.