Falling for my boss ✔️

Chapter 71 - I deserve happiness

♡

Michael's POV

"Can - can I get you anything to drink? Water? Juice? Coffee? Anything?", dad nervously asked, speaking quickly and loudly. He seemed lost, frantic.

"Water please", my voice was silent compared to his.

It was night time. Outside it was still pouring strongly.

The house was kept simple, modern. High ceiling, white marble floors. Darker tones, dark blue couch, with brown accent colours and white walls. A wood coffee table separated me and my father, who was sitting in front of me on the dark blue couch. A more modern approach to his living situation.

Even that we shared in common.

It left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Christine appeared with their two boys, Matthew and Nick; who looked strikingly like dad. Matthew had his strong jawline, Nick had his deep-set eyebrows. Both were as tall as Leon was. Both were in college. Like Sebastien would have been.

"Hello", I simply chose to say.

"Hello", both greeted back almost immediately. They seemed to want to talk to me, but Christine shushed them away before Matthew could open his mouth. "Off you go boys, let them speak in peace."

After the boys were sent away, Christine retreated too, and as she passed, she squeezed dad's shoulder. He looked after her, then at me again as his wife disappeared out the living room.

I felt bumped. Why did he have to name one of the sons Matthew? I love that name and I wanted to use it for my own son.

And the other one - Philippe - after my middle name ...

M and P. After me? Or was that sheer coincidence?

Dad was shaking. Shaking from head to toe. He fumbled around with his clothes.

As I met his eyes, the same colour of Sebastien's and Leon's and Adrien's - he started speaking. He pressed his hands together nervously. "You are here."

Dad chocked on his words.

His eyes were a mix of emotions I couldn't place. I didn't have this social sense like my Sara did; she could have placed his emotions.

All I saw was a man in despair, a loser.

"I'm here", I repeated, my mouth dry.

We both went silent.

The rain was picking up even more.

Dad fished for words, opening and closing his mouth over and over again. He looked like a fish doing so.

I felt myself glaring at him.

So many things I wanted to say.

Because of you, I had to throw my childhood away and raise my brothers. Because of you, I took any small job, from cleaning shoes, to throwing out trash for the neighbors, moving their lawns and so forth so I could buy us stuff. I had to learn how to be independent, I had to learn how to do chores I had never done without any help, I had to skip school so I could look after my brothers  - I put myself on the back burner to try and hide your constant screaming voices from my brothers, to let them live in peaceful bliss.

I wanted to scream at him, yell profanities at him, accuse him of being a deadbeat father, a good for nothing - but I couldn't say a thing.

As if my emotions swallowed my voice. I was left to self-loathe while silently glaring at my father.