28. Seth

SETH

I haven't beenable to eat much. I stare down into my full plate, listening to clinking silverware.

Bridget's foot taps against my ankle.

I look across the table to her. Her eyes are wide.

I shake my head in a subtle way.

It's been a week since we decided we were going to make a go of our relationship.

As promised, I need to talk to Solomon to explain the situation to him and if I am to be honest, I'm terrified.

Solomon has never been anything but nice to me, but I can't imagine he's going to take the news that his stepson has been pursuing his daughter under his nose very well.

Still, I am pressing on.

"Delicious, Amelia," Solomon says before patting his mouth off with his napkin.

My mom rolls her eyes. "You say that like I didn't order in."

"You put it on the plate so perfectly." He squinches his nose.

I glance between the two of them.

They are lovers in a way that Bridget and I have yet to become. Of course, we have an undercurrent of a different kind. But if we are to make a life together, which I hope for more than anything, not everything will be Dom and sub. There will be so much more nuance.

So many things to explore…

But first, I've got to talk to her father.

Fuck.

"Yeah, she's good at that. The plating thing,"

Smooth, Seth.

"Solomon, if you're done, would you be able to chat with me for a few minutes?"

Solomon puts his napkin down and leans his elbow on the table. He looks at me through thin eyes, a cautious smile. "I knew it."

My heart falls. "Kn-knew what?"

He wags a finger in my face. "You haven't been able to stop eyeing my ship in a bottle since I showed it to you!"

Relief floods through me. Sort of. "Yeah, that's it. I'm interested in learning your ways." I glance at Bridget who has her face hidden in her hand. Guess this isn't going to plan so far.

Solomon slaps a hand on the table and pushes himself to standing. "Come on. Let's step into my office."

Solomon gets to his feet and lumbers out of the kitchen and toward the office.

I give Bridget and my mother a final look.

Bridget still looks like a nervous wreck, but my mother is smiling with all the encouragement she can muster. She even touches Bridget on the shoulder as a show of support.

With every step, my anxiety says I can't do this. So, I have to fight it.

I can do this. I can fucking do this.

When I get to the office, Solomon gives me a look over his shoulder. "Close the door behind you."

My stomach drops. I didn't realize this was a private showing of his ship in a bottle, but I do as he says.

"Sit, sit, sit." Solomon gestures toward the ugly old couch against the wall.

All the furniture in here feels like it's from the eighties.

Just because it's ugly doesn't mean it's bad, though. There's something comforting about it all.

I take a seat and try to look casual, which proves to be impossible.

Solomon grabs his ship in a bottle off the top shelf and turns back to face me. He looks at the bottle, then at me. "Look, Seth, I owe you many thanks for what happened the other night."

My eyebrows lift. "Oh. Well, no thanks needed. Just doing the right thing."

Solomon is quiet for a moment. "Sure. Sure, of course."

He sits down in the armchair facing the couch, admiring his work. Then, he holds the bottle out to me. "Take a look for yourself. Easier than it looks, I promise."

I take the ship in the bottle and stare at it without seeing. My mind is in knots. "It's…nice."

"Well, thank you. I'm working on a new one. Should be even nicer. This one is kind of sloppy."

I will myself to look back at Solomon and just say it. "Sir, I have to be honest–"

"Sir? You're calling me ‘sir' now?" Solomon says with an amused smile, leaning back in his chair.

"I just haven't done something like this before, and I'm not sure how it should go." My mouth is hot and dry. I try to wet my lips and then go for it. "I'm afraid I have been dishonest with you."

"Oh?"

"I didn't want to talk about the boat." That's not what you were supposed to say, dummy.

"Is that right?" Solomon asks.

"I have to speak to you about something serious. Something important."

"And that is?"

Solomon's eyes are laser-focused on me.

I've never feared him, but right now I am afraid he could kill me.

Better now than later.

"I know that the circumstances make it strange, but I have feelings for your daughter."

Solomon stares at me. Says nothing.

"Romantic feelings."

Still nothing.

"I love her," I say, shocked it even came out of my mouth. "I've fought it for a long time because of our…"

"Circumstances." Solomon crosses his legs.

"Yes, thank you. Our circumstances. But I'm only human." I smile, lips trembling. "And she's amazing."

"I know that."

"Of course, you do. But I want you to know I think she's just as amazing as you do. If not more so. Not to compete, not to say you're not doing your utmost for her, but…"

I lose ability to speak. I'm scared to ask the question. Scared to be told no.

"Just say it, Seth."

The smile on his face tells me everything. He already knows what I'm going to say.

He probably already fucking knew I was going to talk to him about this tonight.

"I'd like permission to pursue her. Romantically. It's very important to her that both you and my mother are comfortable with it, and I've already spoken to my mother about it, and she's in support. I know it's strange. Some might say perverse. However, I don't feel anything we've done or anything we feel is wrong."

"So, you know Bridget feels the same?"

I purse my lips. Now I've outed Bridget as a liar too. Fuck. "Yes, we've spoken at length about it." Among other things.

Solomon leans his head in his hand, fingers in an ‘L' shape. He watches me for a long time. Then, he says, "I have always liked you, Seth. You know this, I hope."

"I've always liked you too, S-Solomon."

"Your mother has done an amazing job with you. Your father too, of course. I would've loved to meet him, although, then we wouldn't be here."

I shake my head. "No, we wouldn't be."

It is a strange feeling. To wish things were one way and to also be happy the way things are. I hope I am allowed that happiness and contentment. If Solomon would only say yes.

"You would have never met my daughter," he says, followed by a heavy sigh. His fingers trace the arms of his chair, and he fixes his eyes to the wall.

I haven't spent enough time in Solomon's office to know the details. But when I follow his gaze, I find myself looking at a small black and white portrait of a little girl held by her mother.

Bridget and…

"Life is very confusing," Solomon says, through a sad chuckle. He slides his hand across his mouth. "It's incomprehensible, really. One day you're high as a kite on life, the next…" He shakes his head, lips tightening. "You know how it is, Seth."

I do. Because one day you're fourteen and going on a fishing trip with your dad, just like you always do. And the next, you're a shell of yourself.

"What I'm trying to say is, I know what love can do to a person. It is the most devastating feeling, because there is an inherent knowledge that with love comes loss. Whether it be the wrong match or otherwise. However, without it, life is meaningless."

I blink at him. My hands are so slick I fear I'll drop the ship in a bottle.

"I would never keep Bridget from that. I would never keep you from that either. Whether you like it or not, you're a son to me in my heart. Which I know is odd considering I'm approving of you–" Solomon clears his throat, "—dating my daughter. But I love you, and I see what an amazing man you are."

"Thank you, Solomon," I say, a lump in my throat.

"As long as you can promise me that your intentions are pure…"

Pure might not be the best word for it, but–

"That you'll treat her the way she deserves and if you don't already know, Bridget deserves everything," he goes on with a warning look.

"I couldn't agree more."

"And you also deserve the best, Seth. Bridget is the best, so I couldn't think of a better match."

I laugh despite myself. Was I really stressing so hard about this all week for my stepfather just to say everything is hunky dory? "I'm–sorry, I'm just–uh…"

"You were shitting yourself, weren't you?" Solomon rubs his shin with an entertained grin.

"To put it bluntly."

My stepfather laughs, one of his babbling brook giggles.

I've always liked Solomon, but I think I might love him. He will never be my father. But he is Bridget's. And as he is an extension of her, I love him. For raising the love of my life. Because I have no doubt she is my one. My only.

"I don't blame you," Solomon says. "I mean, it's a strange situation from the outside, but my priority has always been the happiness of you kids and your mother, so what reason is there to be bothered?"

I smile. "Did my mother say something to you about this?"

Solomon gets to his feet and heads for the door. He claps his hand on my shoulder as he passes my chair. "No, of course she didn't," he says, his tone indicative that he's lying.

I suppose this is a good lesson in loyalties.

"Solomon," I say before he exits the office.

He turns, quirking his bushy eyebrows.

"Thank you. For…I've always known my mother is lucky to have you. But I am very lucky to have you too. I'm sorry it's taken me this long."

Solomon purses his lips into a smile, eyes growing watery. "Now, come on, we almost got out of this without tears, Seth."

I laugh. Together, we return to the kitchen. My mother has drawn her chair closer to Bridget so she can calm her nerves, I'm sure.

Bridget's eyes shoot to me, then to her father, and back to me. "Is…everything okay?"

Solomon sits down in his spot. "You and I are going to have a talk about lying by omission, young lady," he says, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Bridget is too high-strung to catch his meaning at the moment. Still her eyes search for confirmation.

"We're good," is all I muster to quell her nerves.

Those two words send her shooting out of her chair and right into my arms.

Polite, sweet Bridget Vance plants a kiss to my lips right in the kitchen of our parents' home which sounds so fucked up, but by this point I'm so far beyond the optics of it, I can't be bothered.

She pulls away, her eyes swimming with sparkles, and mouth spread into a wide grin.

"So, can I finally take you on a date?" I ask, for some reason still buzzing with nerves.

"Of course." She leans her body into me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

Solomon clears his throat. "Ahem."

Bridget flips around and retreats to her father. "Thank you, Daddy. Thank you so much."

Solomon accepts a kiss to the cheek, patting her back. "I've already warned him if he ever hurts you–"

"Solomon," my mother snaps at him.

He grins. "I have to play the part at least a little, Mimi."

She shakes her head, then holds her hand out to me. "Come sit."

I join them.

We talk late into the night around the table, polishing off a bottle or two of wine. Laughing, reminiscing, hoping.

For the first time at a family dinner, there is never a lull, never a moment of awkwardness or strangeness. Because for the first time, there are no secrets.

Bridget sits across the table from me.

And she is mine.

And everyone who matters knows.

Yes, a first date is in order. Dating in general is in order.

But my hopes are high. Because when our eyes catch across the table and her impulse is to look away, she pauses, then returns to me.

Although we have already exchanged words of love, I don't need them now to feel it in her gaze. Clear and bright.

My only regret is it took this long to get here.

Better than never getting here at all.

My life will not be dedicated to suffering. No.

My life, from here on out, will be dedicated to Bridget.