King of Harts

23

Emory

I may or may not have had two cups of coffee already and am halfway through my third. With last nights family dinner still fresh in my mind and todays work day having finished only two hours ago, caffeine seemed to be the only thing that might get me through this meeting with my father.

I'd prefer alcohol but that'd probably encourage him to drink with me and that can only go so terribly in a public space.

He's late. Not surprised considering I'm on cup number three and my leg is bouncing so viciously it might knock me out of the booth.

He's always late, he'll have an excuse though, the real reason being alcohol no matter what he says.

"Sorry I'm late, Honeybee! I had to make a stop" His voice fills the space and my head snaps up to find him bending down to smack a kiss on my cheek before sliding into the seat across from me.

"It's okay" I lie with a smile.

"Is that all you got? Did you want a muffin or a cookie or something?" He asks, frowning at my drink.

"No, dad, I'm okay. Thank you" I force another smile.

"I just got one of those frappe's, your grandma would kill me for all of the sugar" he chuckles, shaking the caramel infused drink around and begins fiddling with his thumbs.

He's playing nervous. He's working his way up to ask.

"How's work? How was that family meeting? I didn't know your brother was back" he babbles, his words slightly slurred making my heart sink into my stomach.

"Work's good. The meeting was good, Grays back for good now...he has a son" I clear my throat and watch my fathers eyebrows shoot up in shock.

"That right? I'll be damned" he chuckles and shakes his head as if he can't believe such a thing.

"Is he capable of raising a child?" That one question irritates me immediately.

"Dad" I give him a look but he thinks I enjoy the fact that he's shit talking my brother.

"I'm just saying, honey, I watched that kid struggle to figure out his left and his right" he laughs and my fists are clenched under the table.

"He's going to be a great dad , that kid is 28 now" I defend my brother, not caring about the consequences because no one shit talks my siblings but me.

Not even the man that might terrify me most.

Dads smile falters and he narrows his eyes at me, as if he knows that was a jab at him. He probably does know because it was. Who is he to shit on my brother about fatherhood? Him? Of all people.

"I'd like to come cook you dinner sometime, Mo. Remember when we'd cook together?" He smiles fondly.

More like he'd make me cook and I'd face consequences if I fucked something up. My father taught me how to cook so he wouldn't have to, though he might tell you differently.

"Yeah, I remember" I tell him anyway because I'm trying my best to be on his good side, wanting to walk out of this meeting unscathed. I take a large gulp of my coffee, avoiding his gaze because he's practically a professional when it comes to looking like a loving father.