SHARING EMMA [18+]

3. Cup of Coffee

|CARLOS|

By the time I get downstairs and barely step into the dining room, I hear boots stabbing down the hall. I turn around just in time to find a young man storming towards me.

It takes a second for my foggy brain to connect what I'm seeing with what it means. The aftereffects of mind-blowing sex could do this to anyone—it takes time to catch up with the real world. But Emma is so good at what she does that I don't mind being a little disoriented after our long and passionate shenanigans.

When Ryker throws a punch at me, thankfully, I react quickly. I easily avoid it, slide to the side, and turn around just in time to see him tumble forward until he crashes into the dining chair.

I purse my lips and cock my head to the side, perplexed. "What in the world are you doing?"

My words appear to have a negative impact on him. Instead of calming down or explaining what the hell got into him so early in the morning, he whips around and throws another punch at me.

He manages to hit me square in the face this time. My entire face overheats, and I wince because it fucking hurts.

"What the fuck, Ryker?"

I deflect the next punch he throws my way. I duck, turn, and grab his nape before slamming the side of his face against the dining table's flat. I'm enraged and pumped up on adrenaline, and I have no idea what I've done. When I do, it's too late because the damage has already been done.

I back away from him as if I'd accidentally touched a live wire. "Fuck. Are you okay?"

I just hit my son.

Shit.

Not that I had much of a choice, but still.

I've never hit him in my life, and I can't explain the absolutely awful guilt that is consuming me right now. "Ryker, you're okay, son?" I take a step towards him, hoping to make sure I didn't hurt him too badly.

He pants, his broad shoulders heaving as he stands up and scowls at me.

I probably deserve it.

I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose. "Can someone please explain what's going on here? Why are you acting like a rabid animal?"

"I'm acting like a rabid animal? Or are you acting like a god-damn asshole?"

I knew my son hated me for pushing him away, but I didn't expect him to be so violent towards me. What am I missing here?

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," I enter the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. It's most likely the reason I'm not functioning as well as I should be by this time in the morning. No matter how aggressive the sex I had a while ago, I need caffeine to get my system going.

I make a cup for him as well and set it on the table in front of him. "Care to explain?" I raise an eyebrow, hoping that he's cooled down enough to have a rational conversation rather than go ballistic.

He clenches his fists and narrows his eyes. "It's only been six months since we buried Mom." He says, and I immediately feel a stab of guilt in my gut. But not for the reason that he believes. Not that it matters anymore.

Penelope is gone, and nothing I say or do will change what happened between us. Not even my son's volatile temper. The only person I care about right now. The only family I have.

"And you keep disrespecting her. How dare you?" He snarls. "But then again, what else can be expected of you, huh? You cheated on her while she was alive; why won't you cheat on her now that she's gone? You must have been overjoyed when she died. You can finally be the man whore you've always wanted to be."

"Where is this even coming from?"

"Stop pretending to be innocent!" He snaps and growls. "It disgusts me. We both know you've been screwing some whore while mum waited for you to show up before she died. But you're such a callous jackass that you didn't even come to say her final goodbye. All her life, she was unhappy because of you. The very last thing you could have done was bid her a peaceful farewell. But no. You couldn't even do that. You were too busy being the jerk you've always been to her."

Maybe it's his tone, or maybe it's the nonsensical accusation, but by the time he says the last word, I'm absolutely livid and offended. "You think I have been unfaithful to my wife?"

How dare he accuse me of something so despicable!

Yes, I stayed away. Yes, I pushed him away, which was probably my only mistake, but how dare he blame me for his mother's unhappiness?

"You don't know what you're talking about. And, for the record, I never cheated on your mother." I'm gripping the cup of coffee so tightly that if I didn't keep my cool, I'd bust it with my bare hand. "Never."

Ryker shakes his head, as if he can't believe what I'm saying. "So you're saying you didn't fuck someone a while ago? Will you deny that there is no woman in your upstairs room?

What the fuck! How does he...

Of course. Of course, he knows. My fucking servants must have said something.

At least, now I know what got his panties on fire.

I roll my eyes and pull out a chair. "Of course, there's a woman upstairs. But that's different. I'm a widower now. I'm free to do whatever the fuck I want. And you're far too old for me to be concerned about whether I can fuck someone. Besides, why are we having this discussion again?" I shake my head. "You don't see me accusing you of having lost your virginity at fourteen? Or grounding you for getting that maid's daughter pregnant. You want to know why? Because I expect you to deal with your own issues. If you can't, then you come to me. I'll take care of them for you. As I did with the maid and her daughter. Do you actually realize how desperate she was to go public with the story? I had to pay her to stay quiet."

Ryker is speechless for a whole ten seconds, before he pulls a chair out for himself and sits grumpily. "What do you want from me?"

I take a moment to calm my own frustration down, leaning back in the chair and letting my shoulder drop. "I just want us to start over. That's all."

"We can't. Anything else?" He asks, without looking at me.

I sigh and scratch my chin. "Yeah. At least think about it."

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