Christmas with My Ex’s Dad: An Age Gap Holiday Romance (Forbidden Silver Foxes)

During dinner I can’t help but notice the way Faye keeps her gaze done. She hadn’t had a problem looking at me when it was just the two of us… Is it so bad that I wish it was still that way – that my son wasn’t here – that I was the one she was dating…?

Get a grip – me and her are never going to happen. She’s dating my son.

Elliot seems completely disinterested in anything other than his phone, barely engaging in the conversation.

I break the awkward silence. “How’s the food?” I ask.

Faye’s eyes meet mine, and a small, sincere smile graces her lips. “It’s delicious. You did a great job.”

The relief washes over me like a warm wave, only to be crushed by Elliot’s careless words. “Yeah, it’s good,” he mutters without looking up. “Better than anything we’ve had lately. I swear I’ve been running off of nothing but fast food lately.”

My eyebrows raise at his tone, but I choose not to comment. Instead, my focus remains on Faye, whose fragile smile falters and shoulders tense. “I’d offer to cook more often if someone would actually help out in the kitchen,” she says softly, frustration lacing her voice.

Elliot sighs dramatically. “Here we go again…”

Faye’s voice rises slightly as she puts her fork down. “I’m not trying to pick a fight, Elliot. I’m just saying it’d be nice if you contributed a little more instead of leaving everything to me.”

Finally, Elliot looks up from his phone, his expression defensive. “I’ve been under a lot of stress, Faye. Maybe cut me some slack instead of nagging me all the time.”

Frustration crackles in the air as Faye presses on, the fire in her eyes growing brighter. “It’s not nagging when I’m working and maintaining the house while you do nothing.”

“Nothing?” Elliot snaps, his face contorting with anger. “I’m trying to get a job, you bitch!”

Woah…I can hardly believe that this boy is my son…He gets all of that attitude from his mother’s side.

“Elliot,” I say firmly, unable to stay silent any longer, “that’s no way to talk to her. She’s just asking for a little help, and she deserves more respect than that.”

His head snaps toward me, his eyes narrowing. “Respect? Don’t sit there and lecture me about respect. You haven’t been around for years, and now you think you can just swoop in and start acting like a father? Yeah, but no thanks. I don’t need you bossing me around either. You’re no better than she is.”

My jaw tightens as I struggle to maintain my composure…what a brat. “I’m not trying to boss you around,” I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. “I’m trying to remind you how to treat someone who clearly cares about you.”

“You’re not going to tell me how to treat my girlfriend. How about you do us both a favor and stay in your lane, Griffin.” With a loud scrape, Elliot shoves his chair back and stands abruptly, storming out of the dining room and leaving his half-eaten plate behind.

I watch him go, a heavy silence settling over the room in his wake. Turning my gaze to Faye, I find her still seated, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She keeps her head bowed, making it impossible to read her face. Despite the tension suffocating the space between us, she forces a small, shaky smile.

“Thank you for the meal,” she says, her voice barely audible. “It was wonderful.”

She begins to gather the plates, but I stand and gently grab her hands, stopping her. “Faye. Just… stop for a moment.”

When she finally looks up at me, her eyes are brimming with tears. My heart clenches painfully at the sight, and I can’t help but think that no one deserves this pain. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, her trembling words piercing me like needles.

In one swift motion, I pull Faye into my arms, holding her close as she presses her face against my chest. The warmth of her body seeps into mine, but it’s the sound of her stifled sobs that tugs at the very core of my being.

“You don’t have to apologize,” I murmur gently, stroking her back with a tenderness I’d nearly forgotten I possessed. “Just let it out.”

For a few moments, she allows herself to cry, her hands clutching at my shirt as the weight of her emotions spills over. As I comfort her, part of me wonders if this is what it means to truly care for someone: to hold them when they’re broken, even when you’re not sure how to mend them yourself.

I don’t want another man to ever comfort her like this again – only me.

When Faye finally pulls back, her eyes are red-rimmed and watery. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t usually fall apart like this.”

“Does he always talk to you like that?”

She hesitates, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not always… it’s just been worse since he lost his job. He’s been so tense.”

Gently, I cup her cheek, my thumb brushing away a lingering tear. She’s so soft…softer than I thought she’d be. “That’s no excuse. You don’t deserve to be treated like that. Not by him. Not by anyone.” The words leave my lips with an intensity that surprises even me.

Faye’s breath catches, and I can feel the heat of my hand against her skin as she struggles to find her voice. “He’s just… going through a rough time.”

“Rough times don’t justify hurting the ones we love,” I say softly. “You don’t have to stay with him, Faye. You deserve better than this.” The words leave me before I can stop them, and I watch as her lips part slightly, her chest heaving with each rapid breath.

For a moment, she seems to lose herself in thought, her eyes flickering down to my mouth. I can’t help but wonder if she’s imagining what it would feel like for our lips to meet.

“Griffin,” she begins, but I lean in, my voice barely above a whisper. “Do you even love him?”

Faye bites her bottom lip, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. The question hangs heavy in the air, a truth she doesn’t dare to face. As I wait for her response, my mind wanders to all the ways I could show her the love and care she deserves – anything to erase the hurt etched across her beautiful face.

I could treat this woman better than my son ever has.

After a long pause, she steps back, breaking the moment. “I… I should finish cleaning.”

I watch her retreat, every fiber of my being aching to reach out and pull her back into my arms. But I know I can’t. Not until she chooses me.