How the hell was I supposed to have any kind of stable, loving relationship if I was that kind of amoral scoundrel? I realized that my mother was still standing there looking at me with a concerned expression. I got up and kissed her on the cheek.
"Mom, why don't you go and help Lisa with breakfast," I said. "I need to talk to Dad."
"Okay," she said.
We walked out to the kitchen together, and I continued on to my parents' bedroom. I knocked at the door.
"Dad?" I asked, "Are you decent?"
"Just a second," he responded. I waited until he said, "Come in."
My dad was still standing by the door to the walk-in closet when I approached. He had pulled on some cargo shorts and a t-shirt, almost matching what I wore. He also had a troubled expression.
"Dad," I started, "You know how you told m
