Don't Call Me Daddy

I really hope he deserves this…

Chapter Four

Lawson

“Dad! There you are…” Kiana waves to me as I walk through the crowd. “Come over here. I want to get a picture with you.”

“Sure.” I put a smile on my face and walk over to her.

“Have you been smoking?” She gives me a confused look and wrinkles her nose. “I thought you quit a long time ago.”

“Sorry. You know it’s been a little stressful for me lately.” I shrug and pose for the picture she wants to take.

“Well, you need to quit. I want you to be here long enough to see your grandbaby get married.” She smiles and turns so a couple of other people can get a picture of us.

I ignore what she says. I’m not sure I even want to be here long enough to see the sun rise next week, much less all of the days that come after it.

I hate feeling this way. It’s so much easier to imagine a world without me in it. I’ve failed so many times that clawing my way out of this hole will take more strength than I have.

At least my daughter will be taken care of. Bram loves her. He’ll be a great father to my grandchild. If any of that was up for debate, I wouldn’t have walked her down the aisle. I would have kept fighting it, even if he did take a bullet for her.

“Alright, Kiana. Let’s give your dad a break.” Bram walks over and puts his arm around Kiana. “There are plenty of people here who want to ask you questions about the baby more than they want to snap a picture.”

“Okay.” Kiana smiles and leans her head against him.

Yep. They couldn’t be more in love. The best part about being the useless third wheel is that nobody will give a fuck when I’m gone.

I wouldn’t feel this way if Janie were here with me. We’d be loving parents snapping pictures of our daughter in her Halloween costume, trying to figure out which shelf we were going to put those pictures on, and which ones we were going to replace with the first sonogram of our grandchild. I think mine is still on the coffee table. I don’t even own a fucking picture frame.

It’s been too long since my last drink, so I head to the bar.

“Back for another round, Mr. Brooks?” The bartender smiles and reaches for the bottle of whiskey.

“Yep.” I nod to him.

Another drink. Another trip outside. One more drink seems like the best idea I’ve had all night. I’m starting to feel it. Driving home might not be the best option. I hate myself enough to suffer through my own mistakes until the bitter end, but I won’t put someone else’s life in danger because I want to sleep in my own bed.

I’ve slept on the couch in my office more times than I can count. Well, it’s a new couch now, but when we founded the company, there were nights I didn’t even make it home. Janie never gave me any shit for it. She knew I was trying to make a better life for our family.

Tonight, I just need somewhere to crash. I also have a bottle of whiskey in my desk that’s a whole lot better than what they’re serving at the bar. The least I can do is not get falling-down-drunk in front of all the people at this party.

I owe Bram and Kiana that much.

I mutter to a couple of people that I pass as I make my way to the elevator. If they can tell I’m one sheet away from being three sheets to the wind, they don’t mention it.

There were times when I used to look forward to the elevator ride to the top floor more than the ride down after a hard day’s work. I was young. I was full of ambition. The world was mine to conquer. I couldn’t wait to watch the numbers go up, the precursor to watching my bank account grow. Money seemed like it could fix every problem I had, and it did for a really long time.

I just didn’t realize how many problems it was creating.

The lies I told. The way I treated my family when I was so stressed out from the office that they became an outlet for all of my frustrations. The nights when Janie needed her husband, and all I wanted to do was sleep. The third child I kept promising her we were going to have—next month maybe, or next year, when things settle down at the office. I didn’t even notice when she became withdrawn and our bed got cold.

Now all I have are regrets. And whiskey.

They make one hell of a pairing.

The elevator comes to a stop on the top floor, and I step off. I’ve walked across this floor so many times in the darkness that I know it like the back of my hand.

“The hell?” I stare in confusion. The light in my office is on. There’s someone inside