He laughed scornfully and threw his head back. “Alone is what I’ve always been, kid. It’s all I know and what I’ll always be. Fuckin’,” he shook his head, tossed his cigarette on the deck, and mashed it under his boot, “alone.”
Great.
Apparently, he was just getting started with the self-hate.
If there was a way to hurry him through the process, I wish someone would tell me what to do.
“You’re not alone, Dad. I’m here.” My voice sounded small and insignificant as it whipped around in the cold, morning air.
“Nah, you’re fuckin’ married now.” He took out another cigarette from the package and lit it. “Not that I got invited to the wedding.” His eyes glared at me while he puffed away.
“Then we’re even because I didn’t get invited to yours, either.” I knew I shouldn’t have said it—but I did.
He stood and took a few steps toward me. “Are you going to stand there and bitch at me? Our situations are completely different. I’ve known Marianne for decades.” His hands flew out to his sides. “And you knew that stupid punk how long before you said, ‘I do?’”
He took another long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs.
“I already apologized for that, Daddy,” I said, shifting from one foot to the other. The outdoor mat I stood on wasn’t getting any warmer. “I’m sorry.”
He blew out the smoke in a rush. “Are you really?”
I told him the truth, “I’m sorry for hurting you.”
He shook his head and turned around in a huff. “Go back to Vegas, Alexis. Go back to your games and your life there. And take your husband with you.”
His back to me, freezing me out—and the actual weather out here, freezing me out—I gave up and stepped back inside the house.
My mind raced trying to think of how I could speed this situation up even a little bit.
I definitely felt the time crunch. Every minute that passed, was one minute closer to me having to leave here.
And I couldn’t go until Dad was dealt with.
The coffee maker had done its job, so I made a cup for myself and a travel mug for my dad.
I carried it with me out the deck doors. I walked across the frozen deck and handed the mug to Dad.
He took it and sighed. His bloodshot eyes looked up at me as he grabbed the coffee. “Thanks, honey. I love you. You know that, right?” Dad’s voice cracked and his eyes watered.
“I love you, too, Daddy. You know that.”
He nodded his head, then let his chin hit his chest. I didn’t wait around for any more conversation.
I hurried inside to thaw out.
After I drank half of my coffee, I decided to check on Trey before I started breakfast.
I walked downstairs to find him flat out in my bed. He was on his stomach, the pink top sheet only covering one leg and half of his ass.
Trey’s back and ass were perfectly sculpted works of art.
I wanted to grab my phone and take a picture of him like this so I’d have something to remember him by. Something to prove to myself that this actually did happen.
Trey Turner really had slept naked in my pink, satin sheets.
Another part of me felt like that would be too devastating—to moon over a picture of what might have been.
Of what could have been.