Her Dad’s Best Friend

Chapter 18

dn’t mean to do anything with your daughter. I’ve resisted it. I’ve known that you wouldn’t like it.”

“Damn right,” he spits like he’s tasted something foul. “I’ve been right there with you as you’ve fucked

dozens if not hundreds of women. Hell, I don’t know if you have syphilis or something. You never got

married.”

“I get regular check-ups for STDs.”

He struggles beneath me, but I’m pretty fucking heavy.

“You asshole,” he hisses. “My daughter’s a virgin and you’re the furthest thing from it.”

I knew he’d be outraged. I expected it. But that comment hits home, because I believe the same thing:

she should have sex for the first time with some boy who is madly in love with her, not some jaded

adult who spends too much time in his office.

I stand up and roll him to his front, yanking him to his feet. He puts a hand on my shoulder to steady

himself.

“Leave. Now. And maybe then you’ll still have a few teeth.”

I look him in the face. I don’t want to make this situation any worse than it already is.

“I’ll leave for now.”

He just shakes his head and goes back into the restaurant. I think about Camilla. My phone is in my

suit jacket pocket, so I can’t text her before I go. My car keys are in my pants. I need to get out of here © 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

before Jack changes his mind and attacks me again. The only reason I didn’t really fight back was

because I knew it would hurt her. He might be my best friend, but even he doesn’t get a free pass.

I toss my keys in the air and catch them. I’ll come back for her later.

To-Go

Camilla

My dad walks back into the restaurant. His hair is a mess. Link isn’t with him.

“What happened out there?”

My dad looks at me with tired, frustrated eyes. “This isn’t about him. When did you start something with

Link?”

I hesitate. I don’t know what to tell him.

“Did it have anything to do with you working for him this summer?”

“Yes.” I know that it does. If I hadn’t been faced with daily temptation, I might not have ever acted on

my childhood crush.

My dad swears and breaks a wineglass. The sound makes everybody look at us. A waiter comes to

clear it away.

“I’ll pay for it. Just put it on my tab.” My dad slides his wallet out and puts a Centurion card in the

waiter’s free hand. The waiter puts it into his pocket as he clears away the rest of the broken glass.

“How long?”

“Not very, Dad.”

“How long?” he repeats.

“We haven’t…had sex.” I can feel my cheeks heating up, because I haven’t even had the birds and

bees talk with my dad, and here I am, talking about whether or not I’ve had sex with his best friend. I

squirm in my seat. This is literally the most uncomfortable I’ve been in my entire life. I want to get up

and run out to the parking lot, steal the car, and just go home.

“Nothing? You haven’t done anything?”

The uncomfortable silence sits heavily between us. I could lie, but he would know. So I don’t say

anything.

“You have. Sweet Jesus,” my dad groans.

I stare at my nearly full plate. The eggplant looks sad and wilted.