Chapter 33

BRIGGS

I stood at the patio door in the kitchen, watching my daughter paint my girlfriend’s toenails while they sunbathed by the pool.

Kyla had been at my house for a week, and we’d barely spent any time together. She was too busy hanging out with her new best friend.

They went on a shopping trip to Toronto with my credit card and my bodyguard. Then they spent a day at some spa in Huntsville. I was just the schmuck footing the bill.

I had asked Layla to befriend Kyla, and I was glad my daughter had someone her own age to talk to.

But Layla was on my payroll. She was supposed to be working. I had hired her to be a nanny to my sons, not my eighteen-year-old daughter. That wasn’t in her job description.

~Neither was sleeping with you, asshole. But you had no problem with that. You’re being a miserable baby because you haven’t gotten any pussy in a week.~

Sonya joined me at the door, chuckling when she saw what I was looking at. “Did your daughter steal your girlfriend?”

“Very funny!”

“Oh, Briggsy,” she sighed, patting me on the shoulder. “You’ve dug quite the hole for yourself.”

“How do I get out of it?”

“Tell Kyla the truth.”

“It’s too late. She adores Layla. Look at them. When she finds out, she’ll feel betrayed by both of us.”

“She might surprise you.”

“I doubt it.”

“Do you love Layla?”

“Yes.”

“Then you need to fix this. Now, Briggsy.”

I opened the door and stepped onto the terrace. The girls were lying side by side in matching red and white polka dot bikinis.

“Hey, Dad,” Kyla said when I was standing next to their chairs. “What’s up?”

“Mary has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, so I’m afraid I’m going to need my other nanny to look after the children for a couple hours.”

Layla lowered her sunglasses, glaring at me before she stood up and wrapped her towel around herself. “She told me this morning, Briggs. I was just about to head inside.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you mad that I’ve been hanging out with her?” Kyla asked, her eyes following Layla until she disappeared inside the house.

“No. Of course not.”

“You look mad. And you’ve been grumpy all week.”

“I was thinking maybe we could go for a boat ride,” I suggested.

“When?”

“Now?”

“Sure. I’ll go get changed.”

***

I opened up the sails and cut the engine. There was enough wind that afternoon to move us down the lake at a comfortable speed.

“There’s pop in the fridge,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at Kyla.

She disappeared into the galley, returning with two cans of cola.

“Thanks,” I said, accepting the can from her.

She returned to her seat and stared off into the distance.

~We were off to a great start. And the awkwardness was only gonna get worse once I told her about my relationship with Layla.~

“This isn’t the same boat you had last time I was here,” she said.

“I sold it last year and bought this one.”

“It’s pretty swanky.”

“It’s all right.”

“You could live on this thing if you had to.”

“Why would I need to live on my boat?” I chuckled. “And what would I do in the winter?”

“Shit. I forgot this was Canada.”

“Are you looking forward to your first Canadian winter?”

“Meh.”

“We’re going to stay up here this winter. It’ll be the first time I’ve ever done that. The winters can be long and harsh. We’re in the Snowbelt.”

“What’s a Snowbelt?”

“An area with heavy snowfall and blizzard-like conditions because of close proximity to the Great Lakes. Lake effect snow can cause sudden whiteouts— that’s when you get huge amounts of snow in a very short period of time.”

She looked out at the water, furrowing her brow. “~This~ is one of the Great Lakes?”

“No,” I laughed. “Lake Huron isn’t far from here. It’s a Great Lake. I’ll take you to a beach over there before the summer ends.”

“Can we swim in the water?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve never done that before.”

“You’ve never gone swimming in a lake?”

“I lived in the bayou, Dad. You can’t swim in there unless you wanna get eaten by a gator.”

“How is it that we never went to the beach during any of your visits up here?”

“I don’t know. Can we take Layla with us?”

“Um—sure,” I said slowly. “But she can’t swim. She’ll have to stay close to the shore.”

“I heard her swimming instructor quit after one lesson ‘cause you wouldn’t sleep with her.”

“Layla ~told~ you that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Relax, Dad. I’m eighteen. I know what sex is.”

“I know. But you’re my daughter. I still think of you as an innocent little girl.”

“I’m ~not~ innocent, Dad.”

“Okie dokie, then,” I said, clearing my throat. “Time for a subject change.”

“You’re such a boomer.”

“Excuse me?”

“A boomer. You know? An old person?”

“I’m thirty-eight, Kyla. That’s not old.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Dad.”

~Making love to my girlfriend and holding her in my arms helps me sleep at night. And I haven’t had decent sleep in over a week because she hasn’t been in my bed.~

“You like Layla,” I said, steering the conversation back to the reason I was taking my daughter out on the boat. I had to tell her about us.

“Layla is awesome. She gets me. We had similar childhoods. She knows what it’s like to be raised by a selfish whore.”

“You shouldn’t talk that way about your mother, Kyla.”

“Why?”

“Because she just died, honey. It’s disrespectful.”

“So I’m supposed to pretend she was a good person just because she’s dead? It’s not like she had cancer or something, Dad. She OD’d on heroin. My mom died in a crack house, with three different guys’ cum dripping from her cunt.”

“Oh, Kyla!” I groaned, cringing at my daughter’s choice of words. “That’s not nice language from a young lady. I don’t want to hear it again. And where did you get that information?”

“From the medical examiner’s report.”

“How did you see that?”

“Don’t worry about it, Dad.”

“I ~am~ worried. Very worried. If my eighteen-year-old daughter can access that information, it means the media can as well. Do you really want that getting out?

“Once the paparazzi find out you’re living here, they’ll be chasing the story. If we go to the beach, people will take pictures of us and post them online. Are you prepared for that?”

“I’ve got a hacker friend, Dad. I asked her to get me the preliminary report. She warned me it was bad. But I needed to know. I doubt the paparazzi can hack into the medical examiner database. It takes pretty keen hacking skills.”

“How are you associated with someone like that?”

“Her girlfriend’s a good pal of mine. They own a beauty salon in New Orleans. I was gonna start working there this summer, to save up for aesthetician school. Al was gonna get grandma’s old car running for me to use—but he croaked.”

“How did you meet these women?”

“Why the third degree, Dad?”

“I’m just curious why my teenage daughter was hanging out with grown women.”

“Well, I’m not now. I’m hanging out with your adopted daughter, who’s my age. So chill.”

“Layla isn’t my adopted daughter. And she’s not your age. She’s twenty.”

“Really, Dad? You think there’s a big difference between eighteen and twenty?”

“Yes, I do. And Layla’s very mature for her age.”

“I know. That’s one of the things I like about her.”

“Because you’re used to hanging out with older women?”

“Yeah.”

“I brought Layla up here because I thought I needed two nannies. The hospital nurse told me Layla visited the boys every day. She took a long subway ride downtown every afternoon after her eight-hour shift at a diner.

“She fed and bathed them, changed their diapers. Everything. Few people would do that for their nephews. She knew all contact with the mother’s family would end as soon as the paternity was confirmed, and I was awarded sole custody.

“But she did it anyway. And I felt that my boys would benefit from having her in their lives.”

“I’m not upset about Layla, Dad. I know there’s room in your heart for all of us. She might be twenty. But she never had a dad. I’m glad she has you now.”

“I’m really happy to hear that, Kyla. That’s actually one of the reasons why I brought you out on the boat today. I wanted to talk to you about Layla.”

“Chill, Dad. It’s all good. Layla is great.”

“I’m retired now. I wanna settle down. And I’ve been thinking I’d like to get married. Maybe have a couple more kids. You don’t want your old dad to be lonely, do you?”

“Of course not. I think you deserve to find love, Dad. Your soulmate is out there somewhere. Go find her.”

“I don’t want to upset you, Kyla. You’re dealing with a lot. Losing your mother, then moving to another country and leaving the only life you’ve ever known.”

“As long as she makes you happy, that’s all that matters.” Standing up, she pulled me into a hug that warmed my heart. “Find a woman your age, one who isn’t a gold-digging whore. You’ve to be careful, Dad. Get her to sign a prenup.

“Or better yet, find a woman who’s as rich as you. Then you don’t have to worry that she’s just after your money.”

A lump formed in my throat, which I swallowed with difficulty. The confession had been on the tip of my tongue. And I fucking chickened out.

~You’re a coward, Westinghouse. Where’s your balls? Your kid isn’t in charge of your life. Tell her. If she doesn’t like it, too bad. She’ll get over it.~

Kyla went back to her seat, gazing out at the water, looking more relaxed than she had since she arrived. My daughter was tough. She dealt with her shit on her own, but it worked for her.

I’m exactly the same way. Kyla really was a chip off the old block.

“I wish Layla was here,” she said with a wistful sigh.

“Why’s that?” I asked as I fiddled with the mainsail slides.

“Don’t get me wrong, Dad. I really enjoyed our talk. And I like hanging out with you. But I ~really~ like Layla.”

“I know, honey.” I jumped down and leaned against the rail. “And I’m glad you two have bonded. This would’ve been much more complicated if you guys didn’t get along.”

“You’re not listening to me, Dad,” she said with a frustrated sigh. “I’m trying to tell you that I ~like~ Layla.”

I blinked rapidly, grabbing the railing for support as my brain went into denial mode. I must’ve misunderstood. There was no way my daughter was sexually attracted to my girlfriend.

My life wasn’t an episode of ~Jerry Springer.~

There’s a genetic component to lesbianism. I had read research papers about it. My biological mother is a lesbian. But both of my half-sisters are straight, whereas their mother is a lesbian.

But maybe the lesbian gene is stronger in my mother than in Sophia. My mother is an only child, so I didn’t have any extended biological family to consider.

And I know nothing about my father’s family. I don’t even know his name.

“Dad?”

I shook my head, trying to get some order established in my brain. “What are you trying to tell me, Kyla?”

“I’m a lesbian. And I want Layla.”