Operation Fake Relationship - Jay Northcote Page 0,28

all the times his school reports had been unsatisfactory—so probably at the end of every term.

This isn’t good enough, Nick.

You need to buckle down.

Don’t you want to go to a good university?

Stop wasting your potential!

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stood, waiting for his dad to take a seat behind his desk. But instead, he surprised Nick by leaning on the edge of the desk so they were face-to-face. A muscle ticked in his jaw and he looked down for a moment. He seemed to be even more nervous than Nick.

“Nick,” he began. “I’m glad you’re here for Christmas this year.” He looked up and met Nick’s eyes. “It’s been too long, and I hope this will be the first of many more. I know you’ve been angry with me for a long time, and I don’t blame you. My drinking made me a difficult person to live with. I was stressed and unhappy and I took that out on the people I loved.” Nick held his gaze and waited, wondering what else would be forthcoming. “And I’m sorry that I wasn’t more supportive when you came out. I was shocked, honestly.” He shrugged. “I never saw it coming, and I didn’t know how to react. I didn’t disapprove, I was just… blindsided I suppose, so I didn’t know the right things to say.”

“Yeah. You really didn’t,” Nick said bitterly.

Are you sure?

Maybe you’re just confused.

How can you really know at your age?

Have you ever tried it with a girl?

None of those things were on the list of supportive things to say to a gay son when he came out of the closet.

“I let you down, and I’m sorry. I love you, Nick, and I’m so proud of you and what you’ve done with your life. It’s wonderful to see the success you’ve made of your business, and now in your personal life… settling down with a lovely man like Jackson.”

His dad’s expression was painfully genuine, and somehow that only made Nick’s anger burn more brightly. He clung to his fury, reluctant to let it go, feeding it with all the dark echoes of the past that had been stirred up. “I don’t care what you think!” he flung the words out like sharp things that could wound. “I don’t need your approval now. I don’t need you to be proud of me. Your opinion means nothing to me because I stopped caring what you thought of me a long time ago.”

He clenched his fists into furious balls, shouting now and not caring who might overhear. “It’s too fucking late! I needed it then, not now. When I was growing up I was never clever enough, never hard-working enough, never sporty enough. Pete was the golden boy and I was the one who never lived up to your expectations, who never achieved his full potential, just because I wanted to study art instead of maths, and I didn’t want to be a bloody accountant or financial advisor or whatever else you wanted me to be. I was never allowed to follow my own dreams. You made me feel like shit, like I was never good enough. I needed you to love me for who I was, to accept me as I was, and you didn’t, and you can’t go back and fix that.”

He stared at his dad’s shocked face, his heart racketing around behind his ribs like a rat trapped in a cage. Nick was shocked too. He hadn’t realised the full extent of his anger until he’d unleashed it. Now he’d got it out of his system, all the fight had left him in a rush and he felt weak and shaky.

“Nick,” his dad’s voice was hoarse. “I didn’t know… I never meant….” He drew a harsh breath. “I didn’t realise I made you feel like that. I just wanted what was b—what I thought was best for you.” He gave a sad smile. “Turns out you knew what was best all along.”

Nick snorted, surprised by the admission. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

“And you’re right. I can’t go back and fix it. All I can do is tell you that I’m truly sorry, and that I love you, and that I’d like us to start over if you’re able to forgive me.”

The words hung there. Branches of possibility spread in front of Nick, and his chest felt closed and tight as he considered them. He was so wary of making himself vulnerable again. But he wasn’t a child