Page 36 of Fletch

“Never,” I yell, throwing my hands in the air. “Not one time. I faked it.”

“How the hell am I supposed to make you come when I think you already have?”

“Because you don’t do it for me, Pete,” I say, exasperated from the lies I’ve been telling us both since we began dating. “And now, I know why. Because I don’t do it for you either.”

“But he does?” he spits. “What would your father say, seeing you with a man like that?”

I laugh. “He’d hate it, but I’m a grown adult and I can do what I want. I’m calling the wedding off. In fact, I’ll start calling people today and cancelling everything.”

“You’re making a mistake,” he says, heading for the door. “And don’t think you can come crawling back when you realise it.”

I ring my father’s doorbell. His house is grand, with lavish stone carvings adorning the brick wall surrounding the property. The door is always locked, but I’ve never had the pleasure of being given a key, and neither has Ruby, who waits patiently beside me.

When he finally opens the door, he frowns at the pair of us. “I didn’t call.”

“I know,” I say, stepping forward so he has no choice but to open the door wider and let us in. I dump Ruby’s overnight bag in the hall and head on through to the kitchen, where Jolene, his housekeeper, is baking. When she spots me, she smiles wide and holds out her floured hands for a hug. I go to her immediately, comforted by the smell of her lavender perfume. It’s the same perfume she’s worn since I was a small child. “How are you, my gorgeous girl?” she asks.

“I’m good. What are you making?”

She moves to hug Ruby. “Bread,” she announces proudly. “I haven’t quite perfected it.” She senses my father coming and goes back to kneading her dough.

“I’ve made dinner plans for this evening,” he says coldly.

“Where’s Sarah?”

“I told you, she isn’t well.”

“Still?” He hates questions, and he sighs like I’m annoying him. “I have a shift tomorrow and things to do,” I explain. “And Ruby is bored at mine.” Ruby kisses me on the cheek and goes out of the room. “Besides,” I add, “I need to talk to you.”

“Fine,” he mutters, turning and heading for his office. I follow, closing the door behind me. He sits in his oversized chair and fixes me with his narrowed, angry eyes.

“Peter and I have split up.”

My father sits straighter. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It wasn’t working out.”

“You’re getting married.”

“Not anymore.”

He slams his hands on the table and rises to his feet. “You are getting married,” he declares, each word firmer than the last.

“Why do you care?”

“I have invested a lot of money into Peter and his practice.”

“So?”

“I thought he was going to be a part of the family.”

“Shit happens,” I mutter.

“This better not have anything to do with that club,” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous.

“Why would my relationship have anything to do with The Chaos Demons?”

“You tell me?”