Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1)(19)

“Are you suggesting I not tell Dad that I was dating her?”

“He’s going through a rough patch. Let him have a little fun. Besides, how did it make you feel to realize Dad was banging your leftovers?”

I glared at him.

“Exactly. Even you had a rush of scary feelings. Dad’s soft on the inside. You know that. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Trust me. I give her a few months, tops. And it’s not like we’re all getting together for Sunday family dinners. How often do you even see Dad? She’ll be gone the next time you two cross paths.”

He had a point. My schedule was always tight. I didn’t see my dad often.

“I don’t like lying to him, but you might be right.”

“Barely a lie, and one to spare his feelings,” Ethan said. “I think it’s a worthy sacrifice. A year from now we’ll get him drunk and tell him the truth and have a good laugh.”

“All right, I won’t say anything. For now.”

“Good,” Ethan said. “Because he’ll be here any minute.”

I groaned. “Did you orchestrate this?”

“It’s impossible to schedule time with you, and Dad’s been trying to get the three of us together. So I told him I’d be here this morning. And don’t tell me you have to work. It’s a Saturday.”

“I do have to work.”

Ethan rolled his eyes.

“What if he brings her?” I pinched the bridge of my nose again and there was another knock at the door.

“That must be him.” Ethan went to answer it.

My dad came in, dressed in a casual button-down shirt and gray slacks. He smiled, although there was a tiredness in his eyes that wasn’t usually there. I tried not to think about why he might be tired.

“Morning, Dad.”

“Look at this, my two sons in the same room. It’s been too long, we should do this more often.”

I got a mug out of a cupboard. “Coffee?”

“Please. Then come sit down. I need to talk to both of you.”

I brought his coffee to the table and we all took a seat. I figured he was going to confess that he’d lost money, and I wondered if it was as bad as Ethan had said.

He stared into his mug for a long moment. “Boys, I want you to know that I’m proud of both of you.”

That was an odd way to begin. Ethan and I shared a glance. What was he talking about?

“You’ve grown into fine men,” he continued. “And no matter what happens to me, I want you to know that my greatest achievement in life is the two of you.”

“Dad, Ethan told me about your financial problems,” I said, and Ethan glared at me. “I’m sure we can help you figure it out.”

“Way to be sensitive,” Ethan said.

“There’s no point in beating around the bush,” I said. “Let’s just get this out in the open so we can start working on solutions.”

“That’s not what I came here to talk to you about,” Dad said.

“It’s not?” Ethan and I asked simultaneously.

Dad shook his head. “No. My financial situation is… not ideal, that’s true, and I’ll get to that. But that’s not the main reason I’m here. Ethan, Shepherd… I have cancer.”

I stared at him, momentarily speechless. Had he just said cancer?

“Oh, Dad.” Ethan got up and moved around the table to sit next to him. He put his arm around Dad’s shoulders.

My brain switched instantly from shock to problem-solving. “What type?”

“It’s prostate cancer.”

“Do you have a treatment plan?”

“I do,” Dad said. “Radiation therapy.”

“Where are you being treated?”

“Jesus, Shep,” Ethan said. “He just said he has cancer. Can you calm down with the questions?”

“It’s all right,” Dad said. “He wants to make sure I’m receiving the best care, which I am. My doctor is at the forefront of current cancer research. And my prognosis is very good. The survival rate is close to one hundred percent.”

Ethan let out a long breath. “So you’re not dying?”

“No, it’ll take more than an angry prostate to put me down. But it did get me thinking about my life, and my priorities. I’ve spent some time getting my affairs in order. Not because I think I’m going to keel over tomorrow. But cancer makes a man face his mortality.”

“What about work?” I asked. “Are you going to tell your board?”

“Yes, I’ll be frank with them. I’ll take a short leave of absence while I’m undergoing treatment and return when I’m able.”

That was reasonable. I rubbed my chin. “We need to talk about your finances.”

Ethan leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “Shep—”

“It’s fine, Ethan,” Dad said. “He’s right. We do.”

“Lay it out for me. And tell me the truth.”

“I took some risks and lost my shirt,” Dad said. “The company is fine, but personally…”

I raised my eyebrows.

“I’m basically broke,” he said with a shrug. “And I have to move.”