38. Corey
38
COREY
"Y ou picked this place on purpose." Chandler slumps into the chair across from me, his usual cocky demeanor dampened by something that looks suspiciously like guilt.
"Actually, I didn't." I take a sip of my black coffee, studying him over the rim. "But the irony isn't lost on me. This is where you broke up with her, isn't it?"
A muscle in his jaw twitches. "Dad-"
"No. My turn to talk, for once, and you're going to listen." Setting down my cup, I level a steely gaze on him. "You treated her like shit, Chandler. Made her feel worthless for having ambition, for wanting more than just being your party accessory."
"That's not-"
"It is. And now you're throwing a tantrum because she found someone who appreciates her? Who sees her worth?"
"Someone like you?" His words drip with accusation. "My father? You're at least twenty years older than her."
"Yes. Like me." The admission hangs between us. "And you know what? I'm not apologizing for it. For once in my life, I found someone who makes me happy. Really happy."
Chandler's eyes drop to his untouched capuccino. "Right here. This exact table. I told her she was boring." His laugh comes out bitter. "Guess she proved me wrong."
"You didn't deserve her then. And you don't get to play the victim now."
"So what? I'm just supposed to be okay with my dad dating my ex?"
"You're supposed to be an adult about it. Something you've never quite mastered." I study the boy - because that's what he still is - across from me. "I've put my life on hold for you more times than I can count. Rearranged everything when your mother dumped you on my doorstep. But I'm done sacrificing my happiness for your tantrums."
I rest my hands on the table. "Look at me." I wait until Chandler's eyes meet mine. "Every time you need money, who do you call? Every time you're in trouble, who bails you out? And what have you done with any of those chances?"
"I told you I want to start school again-"
"And I've heard that before. Right before you blew through another semester's tuition on a yacht trip in the south of France." The coffee between us grows cold, forgotten. "I'm not funding another one of your false starts."
His face flushes red. "So what, no more chance at getting back in?"
"No. I'm giving you one last chance to prove you're serious." I take out my phone, checking the time. "You want start school againl? Fine. Show me a real plan. Show me you've researched programs, careers, something beyond just partying with a different crowd."
"This isn't fair-"
"Life isn't fair. You think I wanted to become a father at thirty to a twelve-year-old I didn't know existed? But I stepped up. I took responsibility. Now it's your turn."
Chandler slumps further into his chair. "And if I don't?"
"Then you’re on your own. No more bailouts, no more blank checks." I stand, dropping cash on the table for our coffees. "Time to decide what kind of man you want to be, son. Because right now? You're still that angry twelve-year-old who showed up at my door, blaming everyone else for his problems. You're a drain on society, on me, on everyone you know, and I won't stand for it anymore."
Chandler's shoulders slump, the fight leaving him. "Dad, I... I'm sorry."
The words catch me off guard. In all these years, I've never heard a genuine apology from him.
"I know I've been a disappointment. The way I treated Abbie, the way I've treated you..." He runs a hand through his hair, his eyes looking suspiciously glassy. "You're right. About everything."
"I'm listening." I settle back into my chair, giving him space to continue.
"When I saw her at your house, looking so... different. Happy. Confident. I realized what an ass I'd been." His voice cracks. "She wanted to better herself, and I made her feel small for it. Just like I've done with every opportunity you've given me."
The coffee shop bustles around us, but in this moment, it's just father and son.
"I want to do better, Dad. Not just say it this time." He pulls out his phone, fingers trembling slightly as he opens his browser. "I've been researching business programs. Real ones, not just party schools. I thought... maybe I could learn from you. Actually learn."
I lift an eyebrow, skeptical. "Show me."
He slides the phone across the table. Course listings, admission requirements, career projections - actual research, not the half-assed attempts I'm used to seeing.
"I know I don't deserve another chance. But I want to prove to you - and to myself - that I can be better." His eyes meet mine, clear and determined. "Thank you for not giving up on me, even when I gave you every reason to."
I take a long draw from my coffee cup, feeling some of the tension slip from my shoulders. For the first time ever, I can see my way through to having an authentic relationship with my son.
"And about Abbie..." Chandler's voice trails off, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. "I really messed up with her."
"You did." No point sugar-coating it.
"She was only trying to better herself - night classes, working hard, planning for her future." He shakes his head. "And all I cared about was having someone to party with. Someone to show off at frat parties."
The admission surprises me. This is a side of my son I've rarely seen - self-awareness isn't usually his strong suit.
"You know what killed me at that dinner?" Chandler looks up. "Seeing how she lit up around you. How confident she was. That's not the Abbie I knew, because I never let her be that person. I always tried to keep her under my thumb."
"Son-"
"No, let me finish." He straightens in his chair. "I'm not going to try to get her back. Not now, not ever. She deserves better than what I gave her. Better than who I was to her."
The words hang between us, heavy with meaning. My chest tightens - pride and pain mixing together as I observe my son finally growing up.
"Dad..." Chandler's voice drops lower, his fingers drumming against the coffee cup. "If you want to pursue things with Abbie, you have my blessing. You're the better man, anyway."
My heart skips. I try to keep my expression neutral, but inside I'm soaring. "You mean that?"
"Yeah." He meets my eyes. "The way she looks at you - that's real. And the way you look at her?" A small smile tugs at his lips. "I've never seen you like that with anyone."
"I care about her." The admission comes easily now. "More than I expected to."
"I can tell. And honestly?" He leans back, some of his usual swagger returning. "She's got you wrapped around her finger."
I can't help but laugh. "She doesn't have me wrapped around anything."
"Please." He rolls his eyes. "You're completely gone for her."
He's right, of course. The thought of Abbie - her smile, her wit, the way she challenges me - sends warmth spreading through my chest.
"Just..." Chandler clears his throat. "Maybe warn me next time before I walk in on any family dinners?"
"Deal." I unlock my phone, my fingers itching to text her. "And son? Thank you."
"Yeah, well." He stands, straightening his jacket. "Don't make me regret it. Now go get your girl, old man."
"I'm not that old."