“Jonathan,” Momscolded, shaking her head.
Ignoring her, Icontinued, “Because, unless you have kids of your own, then I don’t think you havethe right—"
“Jonathan. Youwannajoin me in thekitchen?” Dad asked abruptly, shoving his chair out from the table. I was aboutto tell him that, no, I didn’t particularly care to accompany him, when heswatted my shoulder and nudged his head toward the doorway. “Come on. I needyour help with something.”
Pushing away from thetable, I caught the mocking glare Jeff gave me, while his arm wrapped tightlyaround his ex-wife’s shoulders. It still struck me as weird, seeing the two ofthem together again. I had witnessed fights between them that made some of theworst court cases look like child’s play. But here they were, snuggled closelike they’d never split.
I narrowed my eyes towardmy older brother and shook my head before turning to follow Dad through thedoor, and when it had shut behind me, he eyed me exhaustedly.
“Son, why’d you ask usto invite her if you can’t be in the same room together?”
“The girls love her,” Ianswered immediately. That was the simple truth behind why I hadn’t fired Tessmonths ago. She was theirs before she was mine, and I couldn’t do that to them.I couldn’t allow them to lose someone else they loved so dearly. “Tonightwas for them, so … she had to be here.”
Dad opened the fridgeand pulled out a couple of beers. “That’s all well and good, but then, do youreally think the girls want to watch you undermine her?”
“I’m notundermining. Just putting my foot down.I’mtheir parent,” I defended weakly.
“Well, if that’s whatyouwannacall it, fine. But I still say you’re beingridiculous.” He handed a bottle to me and I accepted.
“For crying out loud,”I muttered, popping the cap and knocking the beer back. First one, then twolarge gulps, and I shook my head, wiping the back of my hand over my mouth.“Fine. If it would make everybody happy, I’ll get their ears pierced, okay?Jesus Christ ...”
“This isn’t aboutmaking everybody else happy, Jon. It’s about makingthemhappy,” Dad replied, applying all of his sagely wisdom intohis nod. “And don’t forget about yourself.”
“We’re happy.” Iscoffed, taking another pull from the bottle.
Happywas anunderstatement.Jubilant—that was theword I would’ve used to describe how I felt about my life right now.
Two weeks ago, DevinO’Leary’s new album had come out under the new band name,Devin O’Leary & the Blue Existence. We’d laughed at his choicefor a band name, claiming it sounded cheesy, but the more we thought about itand our own personal battles, the more fitting it seemed. The album hit the Top10 in theBillboardcharts in itsfirst week, and it’d been climbing ever since. It was a surreal slice ofparadise, to watch something I’d had a hand in creating soar. To see thepraise. To see the hate. To know that it had impacted anybody in any waywhatsoever. I was on cloud nine, to say the least, and it hadn’t hurt when I’dgotten my first check in the mail either.
Sixty-grand.
That was more than Imade in a year at Jeff’s club. Including tips.
I had held the checkwithin a shaking hand as I called Devin to ask if it’d been a mistake. He’dsimply laughed and told me that was only the tip of the iceberg. We hung up andI stared at the check, realizing instantly just how much my life had changed.My mind began a daydream sequence of all the things I could suddenly afford.Starting with a new place to live.
“You might now have ajob you love that’s bringing in some serious dough,” Dad said, lifting his beerto his lips, “but is that enough toreallymake you happy?”
My bottle paused on itsway to my mouth as I eyed him studiously through narrowed eyes. “What do youmean?”
I expected a spielabout money not buying happiness. I prepared myself mentally with a snappycomeback. One about not being a child anymore and knowing that already, whilealsoknowing that money does help tobuild acomfortablelife, which, inturn, could easily lead to happiness. It’s what had kept Beth and me fromreaching a happy place in our life together, wasn’t it? The lack of money? Ithad made usmiserable,it had made us fight, and inthe end, the stress and nonstop working had cost her life.
I waited, nursing thebottle of beer, as my father shrugged and pulled his cowboy hat off. “Let meask you this, Jonathan; did you have a miserable childhood?”
“What?” I scoffed andshook my head. “Not at all.”
“Your mother and I—youdon’t remember us fighting constantly, do you?”
Again, I shook my head.“Nope.”
“That’s because wefound happiness in what we had. Life was never about wishing for what was outof our reach, then feeling miserable because we didn’t have it.” Dad shruggedand the kitchen was filled with theclinkof his bottle hitting the countertop. “There’s nothing wrong with striving formore, son. There’s nothing wrong with working toward your potential, and you’vedone that, and I am so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Imuttered, still unsure of where he was going with this.
One beefy hand reachedout to clap my shoulder. “But that should never overshadow the wonderful thingsyoualreadyhave in your life, and Ithink you went through a time where you allowed that to happen.”
“Dad. Don’t.” I nowknew where the conversation was heading. He was moving toward very darkterritory that should be left alone.
“I’m not going to speakbadly about Beth, Jonathan,” he said gently. “But I do think she might’ve beena little too caught up in the way she felt things should’ve been. You know, toprove something to those parents of hers. And I think that maybe she draggedyou down with her, instead of focusing more of your energies on what you bothalready had. I mean, just look at those kids of yours. You have three gorgeouslittle girls who worship the ground you walk on. There’s enough happiness thereto make you the richest man in the world.”
