Matthew's Children. C.J. Carmichael
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He located the remote control for the television and cruised through the channels, finding nothing that could hold his interest. Resisting the urge to phone Jane, he started to pace.
The door to Gillian’s bedroom was open, and as he walked by, he noticed a pair of men’s shoes on the floor.
He paused. It was none of his business. He knew Gillian had been dating. But was the guy also spending the night?
For Matthew not to go into the bedroom to look around took a lot of willpower. He was especially curious about the master bathroom. Would there be an extra toothbrush in the holder? A razor and some shaving gel?
He didn’t begrudge Gillian a sex life. But what impact would it have on the kids when their mother’s boyfriend showed up at the breakfast table? Violet was too young to think much about it, but Derrick would understand what was going on.
The last thing Matt wanted was to start a fight with Gillian. But he would ask her about this, he decided. Surely he had some rights as a father.
His concern about Gillian’s boyfriend faded, though, as another fifteen minutes went by and Derrick still wasn’t home.
There were some numbers by the phone, and he recognized the names of two of the boys on Derrick’s soccer team. He called both of them, but neither of the mothers who answered had seen Derrick this evening.
Hell. Now what?
Matthew was considering phoning Gavin, or even Nick, whose connections on the police force might be useful right about now, when finally the back door opened.
“Derrick.” Thank God.
His son kicked out of his runners, then headed for the fridge without saying a word, or even glancing in his direction.
Don’t jump to conclusions, Matthew counseled himself. It was what he imagined Gavin’s advice would be if he were here. Keeping his tone calm and reasonable, Matt pointed out to his son, “You were supposed to be home forty-five minutes ago. Did something happen?”
“I missed the bus.” Derrick poured himself a tall glass of juice.
“You missed the bus,” he repeated. Did Derrick know how lame that sounded? Or perhaps that was the point. “Maybe you should have showed up at the bus stop five minutes earlier.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Matthew couldn’t help it. His anger rose. “At the very least, you could have phoned.” He checked the impulse to say that he’d been worried, that he’d even been thinking about contacting the police.
“The batteries in my phone were dead.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Derrick’s eyes met his and they were so full of defiance that Matthew knew he was lying. As if to prove it, his son’s cell phone let out a burst of music, signaling an incoming call.
The chime repeated four times. Derrick ignored it. He was still staring at Matthew as if daring him to do something. Options ran through Matthew’s head, most of them out of the question. He didn’t want his first words to be spoken in anger. He struggled for calm.
One. Two. Three.
“You were supposed to be home by eight, Derrick, and you weren’t. You don’t have a good reason, so there will be consequences.”
Derrick smirked.
Again Matthew had to rein in his temper. “You’re grounded for the rest of the week—and that includes no cell phone.” He held out his hand until his son passed it over. “Plus you won’t see any friends this weekend.”
His words hit their mark. The pressure on his chest eased as uncertainty flickered in Derrick’s eyes.
But a moment later, the arrogance was back. “Fine. Ground me. Mom won’t stop me from going out.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Matthew was so disappointed he was practically choking on it. He’d been thinking about the conversation he wanted to have with his son all evening, and none of this had been part of the script.
He cleared his throat. Tried to make a fresh start. “Now, about your soccer situation—”
“If you’re talking about the coach, don’t worry about it. Like you said, the soccer association found us a new one.”
Damn. Could nothing go right for him and Derrick tonight? “Good,” he said weakly. “I guess this means the game on Friday is a go.”
“I guess.” Taking the glass of juice with him, Derrick disappeared into his bedroom.
Matthew groaned with frustration, then picked up the newspaper one more time. He’d read through the business section and sports by the time Gillian arrived home.
She entered through the back door, too, and set down a bag stuffed with what looked like a batch of test papers. She’d taught drama between acting gigs before they were married, but she’d never really loved the work. It was something she did for the extra cash and to get out of the house.
She glanced around the kitchen, her eyes alighting on the plate he’d used for Violet’s snack.
Feeling as if she’d caught him out, Matthew grabbed the plate and stacked it in the dishwasher. “How was class?”
“Not bad. I’ve got a decent group this semester. Some of them even have talent.” She bent over to move Derrick’s sneakers out of the way. “Did Derrick finish his homework?”
Matthew felt his shoulders tense. “I’m not sure, but I doubt it. He wasn’t home until almost nine. He’s been in his room with the door closed since then.”
Gillian rolled her eyes, as if this was nothing new to her. “I wish you would talk to him.”
“I did. I told him he was grounded for the rest of the week.” He remembered the men’s shoes in her room. “By the way, is your boyfriend staying the night now?”
“What?”
“I saw a pair of men’s dress shoes in your bedroom—”
“You were in my bedroom?”
“I was walking past your bedroom.”
“Whose shoes are on my bedroom floor is none of your business, Matt. Or who is in my bed, for that matter.”
“When it comes to my kids—”
“This has nothing to do with Derrick or Violet.”
“I don’t want strange men spending the night.”
“Bruce doesn’t spend the night, okay? He’s a doctor and he works shifts, and sometimes he needs to shower and change after we’ve gone out.”
His ex was dating a doctor. That stopped Matt cold. Of course, he’d assumed that eventually Gillian would move on with her life. But what bothered him was that his kids had a new man—a permanent man—in their lives.
“How long have you been seeing him?”
“That’s not any of your business, either. I don’t ask you for an accounting of your dating life.”
“Well, maybe you should.” Matthew was about to elaborate, when Derrick walked into the room. As earlier, he headed for the fridge.
“Derrick. Your father tells me you were home late.”
“Yeah. He grounded me,” Derrick said, as if it were some kind of joke.
“I don’t understand why you find that so funny.”
Derrick just shrugged and looked at his mother. Then he grabbed a soda from the fridge and left again.
“That kid,” Matthew muttered. “You better watch that he sticks to the grounding