Never Say Never (The Ladies Who Brunch 1)

Chapter16

Damien

“Your swing is sloppy.”

I clench my teeth together as I watch the ball sail through the air and land farther away from the hole than my father’s ball did, but not by much. “Still within putting distance though.”

“Yeah, but I definitely have the advantage.” He smirks as he slaps me on the shoulder and moves toward the golf cart. I follow him over and deposit my club back in the holder before we both take our seats, and I start driving to the spot where our balls landed. “You know, if you would have come work for me, you’d have more time to work on your game.”

“Well, golf was never my favorite pastime anyway, Dad.”

This is the third time he’s brought up my job since we started golfing and each occurrence only serves to remind me why I moved three thousand miles away from him and could have never survived working for him.

“You used to be so much better at it though, Damien. It’s like you’re slacking.”

“I was good at it because you made me play, Dad. Now I’m too busy at work and doing other things to worry about golf.”

“You’re working too hard then. If you were the boss, you’d have more time to play.”

I huff out a laugh. “Maybe that’s how it works for you, but if I get this promotion, that won’t be the case.”

He scoffs. “I can’t believe you’re still working your way up in that company, Damien. For how long you’ve been there—”

“I should be running the show by now,” I finish for him. “Maybe I don’t want to be the boss, have you ever thought about that?”

“Well, if anyone asks, I told them you’re in charge anyway, so just play along.”

Rolling my eyes, I’m grateful for when we arrive where our balls landed, eager to keep this game moving so these conversations can stop as well.

The first night when we arrived in Hawaii, my father pulled me aside before dinner and told me he couldn’t believe I was actually dating Charlotte, that seeing us together made his insides turn. Part of him wished I was lying and that Charlotte’s mom was just exaggerating the news that we were dating.

But when I told him it was real, he shook his head at me and assured me it wouldn’t last.

The truth is, he’d love nothing more than to know it was fake, but I don’t want to give him that satisfaction, and I’m still hoping this fake relationship will end up real when I talk to Charlotte.

“She’s not the woman for you,” he said.

“Well, what you think doesn’t matter.”

“It should. I’m your father. My opinion should mean more to you than anyone else’s.”

Little does he know that it’s taken years for me to learn that his opinion doesn’t matter. Being happy for the first time in my life helped me realize that listening to him, telling me what he wanted for me while I was growing up prevented me from figuring out what I truly wanted for my life.

By the time we were done talking, I was so on edge that when I sat down next to Charlotte at dinner, I knew she noticed the change in my demeanor. I didn’t want to worry her about it given how on edge I knew she was about her mom—which is an entirely different animal we’re dealing with—so I told her I was fine and brushed it under the rug.

But then yesterday, he commented on Charlotte’s body in her bikini when we went swimming after lunch before the girls arrived from the airport.

“Looks to me like Charlotte is too busy working at that ridiculous magazine to fit in a few workouts here or there.”

“What?”

He eyed her up and down in her suit, which I happened to think was a sexy-as-hell black one-piece with cutouts on the back and sides that showed glimpses of her tan skin. It was all I could do to let her leave our room after she put it on and showed me.

“She’s overweight, especially for her height. A few hours at the gym should be a priority for her as a woman who’s not very tall.”

“Funny, I happen to think her curves are sexy as hell,” I countered.

“To each their own, I suppose. But just remember, if she has children, she’ll only gain more weight and then fight to lose it. Thank God your mother did, but not all women care enough to do that for their husbands.”

“Jesus, Dad. We need to get you a muzzle. Do you hear yourself?”

He threw his hands in the air. “What? I’m just speaking the truth. And I’d hate to see you wind up with a woman who has no problem letting herself go.”

I walked away from him at that point because if I stood there any longer, I was afraid I was going to punch him, and that’s the last thing I needed while trying to survive this trip.

But making comments about my job is his favorite way to remind me that I have failed to live up to his expectations as his son.

“You know, I made five million last quarter,” he says as he reaches for his club and prepares to sink his ball in the hole, completing this hole under par.

“Good for you, Dad.”

“You could have been making that kind of money if you had stayed home.”

“Well, money isn’t everything in life,” I say as he goes to line up his shot. And apparently, my comment struck a chord with him because he misses. I smile with pleasure.

“It’s not too late, son. You could move back home, and I’d bring you on at the firm in a heartbeat. You can stop living in that small apartment, have a real job making real money, and meet a petite southern girl that would worship the ground you walk on.”

“Sounds like your life, Dad.”

He grins, bigger than I’ve ever seen him. “And what’s wrong with that? You should be proud of your old man.”

“And you should be proud of me for not perpetuating your chauvinistic ideals for another generation of Shaw men.”

“Watch your tone with me, boy,” he says with a heated stare as he takes a few steps toward me, getting in my face and seething, his pupils dilated and his eyes growing darker.

“Or what?”

“Everything okay here?” Cal Montgomery, Charlotte’s dad, steps up toward us as a few other golf carts pull up to the hole as well. I guess the rest of the party has caught up to us finally, and just in the nick of time.

My father’s demeanor instantly changes, his death stare from before transforming into a slimy smile to hide the fact that he was about to get physical with his son.

Wouldn’t be the first time, unfortunately.

“Oh, just a father and son disagreeing over a few things. No biggie.” He flicks his eyes over to me and then back to Cal. “Nice of you boys to finally catch up.”

“Well, we’re just enjoying the day, taking our time,” Henry, one of the men here for the ceremony, interjects.

“Time is money, Henry. But the slower you go, the better chance I have to win now, isn’t that right?”

The men chuckle as Cal casts a look over to me. “That competitive spirit is alive and well, I see. Is Damien giving you a run for your money?” he asks.

And I take this as my opportunity to get a jab in at my dad. “Well, I learned how to compete from the best, isn’t that right, Dad? It would only be right for me to prove that sometimes, the path less traveled leads to greater success.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re going to beat me, Son? You realize you’re about twenty more feet away from the hole than I was.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say with a shrug as I grab my club from my bag. “Winning isn’t everything, Dad. And I happen to like being the underdog. It makes the win that much sweeter when I clench it.”

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