Painting Flowers // Ashton Irwin [au]

Twenty-six

Ashton's POV

By the time I find my dad's hotel room most of my anger has subsided. But that's only because when I charged out of Calum's room, I had no idea where to go. So I stormed down to the lobby and talked to the receptionist to find out where my dad's room was. It took way longer than I would have liked because the receptionist was suspicious of me and kept asking what business I had with 'Mr. Irwin'. After shoving my driver's license in her face and watching her expression morph into apologetic realization when it clicked in her head that I am 'Mr. Irwin's' son, she gave me his room number.

At least the time spent with the receptionist aided in fueling my overall annoyance and irritation. However, I'm more than sure that the moment I see my dad's face, the anger will arise and Hell will break loose within me.

My fingers twitch at my side as I stand outside my dad's hotel room door. I raise my fist to knock, but it falls back to my side when the door knob jiggles from the other side. I jolt back when the door swings open and lower my guard when I see that it's not my dad standing in the doorway. However, it doesn't make it any better that the person standing in front of me is my kid's other grandfather.

"Ashton," Elijah says, his eyebrows rising and a curve in his lips forming as he rolls down the cuffed sleeves of his navy button-up shirt. Even though there is a small distance between us, I internally cringe at the stench of distilled spirits spilling from his mouth. "Didn't mean you scare you, son," he says. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long, sir," I say, withholding the urge to call him out on calling me 'son' again. "Were you talking with my dad?"

"Yeah, we were just catching up," he says, keeping the door slightly ajar behind him. "It's funny because it's as though time hasn't passed since the last time I saw him, and that was years ago. But he's still the same ol' pain in the ass Nolan." He chuckles to himself. "So how have you liked your stay here so far?"

"It's been great," I say, disguising the adversities and overall shittiness of my life with a grade A fake smile. "Thank you for booking this hotel for us. It's a little extravagant for my taste but my friends and I really appreciate you going above and beyond for us. I wish there was some way to repay you for all of this."

Elijah waves his hand dismissively. "It's really no trouble," he says. "But if it's really eating at you, why don't come over for dinner while you're here to compensate? If you have some free time, that is. I know my wife misses you and would love to see you. You can even bring your friends."

No. Absolutely not. I don't want to step foot in Natalie's old house. I'd rather dive off a cliff onto a bed of pointed rocks than accept his invitation.

"He'd love to go," my father's unmistakable voice says, pushing Elijah out from the doorway and greeting me with anything less of a smile and the un-styled natural curls on his head. "Let's shoot for Tuesday evening."

I knew getting angry with him again wouldn't take long. All he has to do is open his mouth and my resentment towards him naturally unveils.

"Tuesday could work," Elijah says, walking backwards down the hallway and almost tripping over his feet as he continues to talk to us. "I'll call you with the details tomorrow. It was good seeing you, Ashton."

"Uh, sir?" I say. "You're not driving are you?"

"God, no," he says, reaching the elevator. "My wife would kill me if I did. I've got a cab waiting for me outside. Try not to be at each other's throats while I'm gone," he jokes, slipping inside the elevator and waving goodbye as the chrome doors slide shut.