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René stiffened and he cleared his throat. “Forced early retirement,” he corrected, speaking down his nose.
Still.
He was standing in his estranged son’s apartment having been fired from the one thing he had put above all else in his life and he was still too proud to admit it.
“Are you here for comfort?” André asked slowly.
René glanced André’s direction but missed the hostility rolling off him.
“I thought we could go out, catch up.”
“Now you want a relationship? Don’t you think it’s kind of late for that?” André asked in all seriousness.
René clicked his tongue. “Don’t be so melodramatic. You’re an adult for pity’s sake.”
André rubbed a hand over his mouth. He glanced at the clock again.
Shit.
“Dad, I actually have plans. Can we do this later?”
René screwed up his face and scoffed. “Change your plans. I’m in town.”
André shook his head and rolled his eyes. Oh, Thomas was going to love this update on Wednesday. Sometimes he’d tell his therapist something his dad had said or done, and Thomas would look politely shocked. It was a fun game they played that André liked to call, “trick or trauma.”
“No,” André said firmly. “My plans cannot be moved. Do you have a place to stay in town?”
“I’m not a beggar,” René said, disgusted.
“Great. I need to shower. I’m already late. Call me later in the week and we can…” Oh God, was he really offering to meet his dad later? “Discuss. Things. Sabine can join us. It’ll be great.”
René crossed the room, coming closer and putting his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t want to see her.You’remy son.”
“Nice, Dad.” André sighed.
“You misunderstand.” René waved away his comments. “I already spoke with her today. Butyou’rethe one I wanted to see.”
Like that was somehow better.
André’s frustration was growing. It had been present from the beginning, but the longer his dad argued with him about leaving, the more it grew. And now it was starting to feel more like anxiety than frustration.
He looked at the clock.
Nikki was expecting him.
He had told her he’d be there.
Why did this moment feel so terrifyingly familiar?
“Dad. You have to go,” he said, this time with more force.
“André,” René replied, incredulous. “I haven’t flown four thousand miles to be so disrespectfully dismissed.”
He needed to leave the room before he did something he might actually regret.
“Whatever. I have to shower.” André went into the bathroom and stripped off his clothes. Maybe his dad would take the hint and leave.
Fuck.
