Liam frowns.
Carson goes on, “You don’t get to sit here and judge me about my daughter. You don’t get to lecture me because there’s not a damn thing you know about what I’ve done for her. Lecturing me like you have kids when you don’t even have any yourself. What a fucking joke.”
Liam’s eyes narrow further, his voice pure acid now. “You don’t even send her a check once in a while for her troubles. So what exactly are all the ‘things’ you’ve been doing for her?”
Jesus Christ, Liam…
“Alright, let’s cool it. Both of you.”
Carson shoves his chair back hard enough that it scrapes the floor.
A muscle ticks in his jaw with how hard he’s grinding his teeth together. “We’re fucking done here.”
He tosses a few bills onto the table, barely enough to cover his steak, and storms to the front of the restaurant.
The hostess by the door starts to say something, but Carson’s already striding past her, sunglasses sliding back on like this is some kind of dramatic mic-drop exit.
By the time the glass door swings shut behind him, I let out a long sigh.
A couple at the next booth start talking again in lowered voices, while the waitress from earlier hovers a few steps away, unsure if she should come over.
The manager approaches with a practiced, tight smile soon after. “Gentlemen, I think it’s best if you finish your conversation elsewhere. We try to avoid…domestic disputes during the lunch hour.”
Liam doesn’t even argue and gets up from the table.
I drop enough cash down to cover the rest of Carson’s tab and a tip before we stand, walking out into the winter air.
Outside, the cold bites, making my eyes sting from the windchill.
The parking lot is half-buried in dirty snow, and Carson’s truck is nowhere in sight. Probably halfway home already. Or to the liquor store to pick up a case to drown himself in later tonight.
I turn to Liam, shoving my hands into my coat pockets. “What the hell was that about?”
He looks at me, disbelief twisting his face. “Oh, so you’re taking his side now?”
“What? No. I’m not taking anyone’s side, I’m just saying maybe you could’ve handled that better.”
“Handled it better?” His voice spikes, making me wince. “He’s a shitty dad and you know it. But yeah, go ahead and keep defending him.”
“I wasn’t defending him, Liam.”
“Save it,” he snaps, already turning away, his boots crunching hard over the slush. “I’ve got better stuff to do than argue with you.”
I stand there for a long moment, the wind needling through my coat, as he climbs into his car and peels out of the lot.
My fingers ache from the cold, but that’s not the part that stings.
The thing is…he’s not wrong.
Sighing, I head to my truck and slide into the slightly less cold cab.
While I knew this lunch would go poorly, I didn’t think it would end with our friendship potentially cracking.
24
HOLLY
If you’d told me a week ago that I’d be sitting across from one of my father’s best friends in a dimly lit Italian restaurant, sipping the wine he insisted on ordering for me and actually loving it, I would’ve laughed.
