Her father showed up at her condo two nights ago, demanding to speak with her. Since the guard at the gate knows he’s usually an accepted visitor, he let him through. The phone call full of emotion I got from her after he left was like a beacon, signaling the end of the blissful bubble we’d been living in. Even though Sydney is still furious with him for trying to force her to live her life a certain way, he’s still her dad and she wants to have him in her life. She assured me that he seemed eager to meet me, since he’s obviously been having her followed this entire time and knows about our relationship.
So now I’m standing on the front steps of a colonial-style home on the other side of town, neck craned back as I stare at the deep, mahogany door closed in front of me—the metaphorical obstacle standing between me and acceptance. I’m not sure whose acceptance I’m fighting for though—her parents’ or Sydney’s herself.
Even though she’s promised me that I’m the man she wants, that little boy inside that’s never felt good enough, the one who fights demons daily that undermine what I think I’m worthy of—he’s eager to share his thoughts, especially right now.
“Hey,” she says, attempting to soothe me with her voice. I stare down at our intertwined fingers as I gather my wits. “He really wants to meet you. And I told him that if he’s an ass in any way, I won’t step foot back in this house.”
I huff out a laugh. “You said that?”
“Yeah, I did,” she replies on a sincere smile. “I’m not going to let him disrespect you and our relationship. No matter what he thinks, I’m leaving here with you and we’re going back to one of our homes and spending the night together, alright?”
I lean over and press my lips to hers softly, holding our touch for just a moment too long as the door opens and a man larger than life peers down at us.
George Matthews has a commanding presence about him that increases the intimidation factor ten-fold the moment our eyes meet. He’s at least four inches taller than my six foot, with dark brown hair streaked with grays. Black-framed glasses perch on his nose and the smell of his expensive cologne smacks me in the face once I remember to breathe again.
“Sydney,” he voices on a smile, reaching for her to pull her in for a hug, effectively breaking the hold I had on her. As her face is buried in his chest, his eyes peer over the top of her head in a heated stare that starts to eviscerate any confidence I had from the inside out.
“Hi, Dad.” She smiles up at him with a reluctant lift of her lips, and then turns around to face me, holding her hand out in introduction. “I’d like you to meet Javier Montes.”
My hand lurches forward awkwardly while I try to gain my footing, reaching to shake his hand as he meets me halfway. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Matthews.”
“Judge Matthews,” he corrects in a tone reminding me of his power. Surely the man has gone through my background with a fine-tooth comb once he realized I was seeing his daughter, so he knows about my past and is subtly reminding me of it.
“Judge,” I reply as Sydney rolls her eyes.
“Come on in, Javi.” She reaches for my hand, locking our fingers together once more as I cross the threshold into the Matthewses’ home.
If I thought Sydney’s place was nice, this house borderlines as a mansion. Cream-colored marble floors shine in recessed lighting. Beige colored walls accent deep brown furniture in the main living room. As I follow Sydney’s lead past a hallway and staircase, we step foot into a kitchen that belongs in a magazine. Black cabinets accompany white marble countertops and the same tile that’s in the rest of the house. Stainless steel pots rest on the stove as a woman that looks identical to Sydney turns around to acknowledge us.
“Hi, sweetie.” She pulls Sydney in for a hug as her eyes assess me quickly. When they part, she puts on the biggest smile I’ve ever seen, which leads me to believe it must be fake.
“You must be Javier …”
Stepping forward to shake her hand, I meet her soft palm with my own. “Yes. Nice to meet you Mrs. Matthews.”
“Likewise. And please, call me Heather. It’s about time we meet the man Sydney has been spending so much time with.”
“Well, ask Dad why I’ve been M.I.A. and you’ll have your answer.” Sydney steps in close to me and rubs my back supportively as she puts her mother in her place. The moment her hand touches me, I wonder if she can feel the sweat dripping down my back. It’s the main reason why I wore a black shirt tonight.
“Dinner is almost ready,” her mother speaks, bypassing Sydney’s comment completely as her father arrives in the kitchen holding two glasses of scotch. “Why don’t you open a bottle of wine for us, dear?”
“I guess I can do that,” Sydney murmurs as she leaves me alone once again and her father steps directly in front of me, holding out a tumbler full of amber liquid.
“Here you go, Javier,” he says as his arms stretches toward me.
“Oh, um … thank you, but I don’t drink and drive.” If I were a teenager, I’d pass that test with flying fucking colors right now. Instead, the man in front of me looks like I’ve got a screw loose.
Taunting me with a lift of his brow, his voice rises a few levels. “Oh? Is that so? And why would that be?”
“I have my reasons,” I grate out. No matter what this man tries to do this evening to prove a point, I don’t owe him an explanation about how I
