“I tried to stay away. But I always wanted kids,” said Henry.

Steven sat back in his chair, letting the tension ease from his shoulders. He took another swig of his drink before he replied. “I’ve always enjoyed being a father. You should enjoy the same privilege. It’s obvious my daughter is never going to give you that joy.”

“No, she’s not. Do you know where she is? Should I call her?”

Steven waved his hand. “No. Just sit tight. I’m going to talk to her first. I have a few more strings I can pull to try and keep everything from going to hell.”

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“Go home and relax. Wait to hear from me. I have a feeling your wife will be home and beside you in no time at all. Don’t say anything to the rest of the family. This should blow over by tomorrow.”

“You think so?”

“Oh yeah. But Henry?”

Henry’s eyes opened wide and he looked attentive. “Yes?”

“When she gets back, you need to get ahead of this. I don’t know what promises you have to make or actions you have to take, but get it done. Keep her in line. Don’t fail me again,” said Steven.

“I’m sorry, Dad. It won’t happen again.”

As he watched Henry walked out of his office, Steven Kennard whispered quietly. “No, no it won’t.”

Tuesday, December 24, 2019
11:00 am PST – Hollywood Hills, California (2pm in Toronto Canada)
Henry Young & Christina Anderson Residence
———————————–

Henry pulled himself from bed, his head throbbing. His tongue felt like sandpaper. As he sat up, he became aware that he was still in his clothes from yesterday and that he’d passed out on top of the king-sized mattress in the master bedroom.

With a hand pressed to his forehead, he waited for the room to stop spinning.

The first thing he smelled was a hint of his wife’s perfume. At the recognition of the scent, his face turned angry and red. He felt like an idiot.

“What the fuck was that? Pity sex?” he asked himself out loud.

His mind was reeling. Chris had told him everything he needed to hear to let his guard down. To make him feel like he and she were in everything together. And because of it, there had been details he’d kept from his father-in-law. He’d taken his focus off of keeping Chris distracted and instead had been concentrating on moving their life away from her controlling parents. He really had wanted to move to New York. Chris had known that. She’d played on his emotions. Building him up and creating a false future reality that he could believe in.

The doorbell rang.

“Christ!” he muttered.

It rang twice more before he finally answered it, surprised to see his father-in-law standing there on the stoop. Steven smiled. “Can I come in?”

Henry ushered him inside and shut the door.

“You look like shit, son,” he said.

Henry shrugged. “Maybe I had one too many.”

He noticed that Steven had called him ‘son’. Things must be improving.

“I figured you might not have eaten. I brought a few breakfast tacos. And you look like you could use a little hair of the dog. Besides, we need to talk. I have some updates.”

They sat down at the island in the kitchen. Henry heated up the tacos in the microwave, his stomach rumbling at the smell of eggs and bacon. He poured them both a scotch, neat. And he got an orange juice for himself as well.

They tucked into their meal and started to chat.

“Tracey really wants you to come over tonight. Christmas Eve dinner,” said Steven.

“Does she know about Chris?”

“No. I told her she’s been delayed with filming, but that she should be home tomorrow. Just in time to celebrate Christmas with the family.”

Henry talked around a mouthful of food, his eyes wide. “You found her?”

Steven nodded. “I did. She’s with Bette Porter.”

Henry swallowed the food in his mouth. “She is?”

“Yes. But I’ve got some cards left to play. She will be home tomorrow. And then you and Christina will come over and celebrate Christmas with the family, like always.”

“Wow. So, what about the divorce?”

Steven shook his head. “Trust me, that will disappear.”