AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A second later, another ding came in, and I thought it was Filipe’s phone, but was mine.
The text was from Dad. I held my breath as I opened it. I wasn’t sure if I wanted his note to say he was engaged or if he wasn’t. Dad’s text was a photo message.
I clicked on the image to enlarge it. He was standing next to a beautiful blond whom I presumed was Theresa. It was obviously just taken, as Vegas’s neon skyline provided the photo’s backdrop.
What surprised me the most was Theresa’s age. I envisioned a twenty-five-year-old nymph, but Theresa was somewhere in the neighborhood of forty, though I had to admit she looked younger.
Dad’s smile had movie-star wattage as he held Theresa’s hand, where, sure enough, there sat Great-Grandmère’s five-carat Cartier diamond ring. I had to admit it looked fitting on Theresa’s elegant finger.
“Well shit,” I muttered, which got Filipe’s attention. I showed him the photo.
“She’s a stunner.”
Dad’s next text read, Theresa said yes. We eloped on the spot. The new Mrs. Vaulteneau and her son move to Malibu next week.
Static entered my brain. “No fucking way,” I hissed. “They eloped.”
Filipe blinked a few times as he let my message sink in. “My dude didn’t wait to lock that down,” he said, a touch of surprise in his tone. “Stefon rarely acts impulsively. Must be love.”
“Love, my ass,” was all I could come up with.
Was this a joke? Did my dad actually elope? With a stranger? While I wasn’t there to witness it?
What was so urgent that they had to get married immediately?
I didn’t want to be offended, but fuck if I wasn’t.
“Stefon looks happy, my dude.”
My mind raced. Had my dad been conned into a hasty marriage with a con artist?
I reread his texts, my head spinning. This couldn’t be happening. Dad mentioned Theresa had a son.
Another image popped into the text string. It was the school photo of a rather good-looking young man with blond hair, piercing blue eyes the color of the ocean, and a smile that did absolutely nothing to my chest. Nothing at all.
Your stepbrother’s name is Ciaran, Dad wrote. He’s seventeen, eighteen next week. Good kid, big into swimming, you’ll get along great. We’ll throw a large party when they get into town. Will tell you more tomorrow.
At this point, Filipe was reading the texts over my shoulder as they came in.
“Good looking kid,” Filipe mused. “Jailbait for sure, but your stepbrother is definitely a looker.”
“Shut up,” I grumbled, which made Filipe chuckle. “And keep your hands off the kid, bucko. You and Joan both.”
“You know I can’t control Joan, nor would I want to,” Filipe said, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “Makes it more fun, you know?” He nudged me. “You gonna write back or what? Can’t leave your padre hanging like that.”
“Are you my designated conscience tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” I started typing Congrats!! and mostly meant it. I wasn’t a complete dick. I was happy for him, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was also thinking about how this was going to affect me. Theresa’s a beautiful bride. You’re a lucky man, Dad. I look forward to welcoming them into the family.
The word stepbrother echoed in my mind. At least he wasn’t a toddler or a good-for-nothing adult.
Still, I wasn’t thrilled at the idea of babysitting anyone, not that Dad had asked me to do that.
Dante and I used to hate each other when we were younger, but as we grew up, we became more like business partners than siblings. Could I co-exist with this kid?
Ciaran.
