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“Nobodies don’t have ten tons of baggage, a million instafam followers, and an unhealthy obsession with a man's net worth.” I put him back in his box. “She’s nice. That’s what matters. I also don’t want to date someone who will broadcast my personal life all over the internet like an ad for the high life.”

“It’s true, you are a private guy. These ladies nowadays are full of shit. Gossip is a currency in New York.”

I look up again; this time it looks like my triplets have launched a full scale interrogation, and my date looks like she wants to burst into tears. I swear to all the things, this weekend I will commit a murder and cover it up so no one even knows they’re missing. My sons are heathens. I excuse myself from the conversation and walk back up the lawn, towards my family.

“Hey, are you okay?” I ignore my kids and check on my date first. She looks flustered.

“I’m fine,” she lies through a fake smile. “We were just getting to know each other.” It sure looks like it.

“It’s going to be dinner soon, do you want to come in with me? We can shower and freshen up.” I put a protective hand in the small of her back. “It’ll give my children time to find their fucking manners too.” They know I am angry, they have crossed a line. A family chat will happen, but now isn’t the time or place.

“Dad,” Tala says, trying to defend herself, but I shoot her down with a look.

“We will see you children at dinner. Can you please try and behave like the adults you’re supposed to be?” I snarl at them; I raised them better than all of this shit.

On the way back up to the house, I ask Melissa again, “Are you okay? My kids are a force of nature. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, just a bit overwhelming that’s all. They’re just being kids. Protecting their father.” I don't buy into that. They were being assholes — I could see it from a mile off.

Our bags are waiting in the same guest suite I stay in every time we come here; I shut and lock the door behind us. Melissa looks around at the room and out the open bay window that faces the side of the house. I come up behind her and put my hands on her shoulders. It’s a gorgeous view, especially this late in the day when the lighthouse is a silhouette against the pink sky.

“Do you want to take a shower?” I ask, turning her around so I can hold her close to me. We had a few touches in the car on the way here and some looks that gave away our thoughts. I lean down to kiss her, and she stiffens up. Her kiss is cold, and there’s no passion in it. Maybe it’s me, maybe I am forcing something that isn’t there for either of us.

“You can go first,” she says, stepping away from my touch.

“You don’t want to join me?” I ask her, wondering how I got this so wrong. She had seemed excited about this part, about getting close and having time together. When we talked and texted, some of her messages were very sexual.

“No, you go, I'll get my clothes ready.” Sheesh, shut down. She obviously sees the confusion on my face. “I’m just a bit tired. It’s been a long day. It’s all a bit much.” She comes to me now, a hand on my chest. “Later, after dinner when we won’t have to stop.” She gives me a half-assed kiss and a wink. Something changed, I pull her close and kiss her, the type of kiss that gets a woman weak in the knees. Melissa moans into the kiss now, the hardness softening.

“Come shower with me,” I whisper on her lips. “Please.” She looks up at me, and nods her head.

I swear those fucking kids of mine probably said something to her.

Picking her up, I carry her to the en-suite bathroom so we can continue this in the shower. There’s no hiding my arousal, she’s a gorgeous woman. She’s undressing in front of me, and I like it. I get in before her, so the water has time to get warm. The glass steams up quickly, she opens the door and steps inside.

“Whooah,” she says the moment her eyes land on my dick. “Umm, that’s not going near me. I like walking.” She giggles covering her mouth. The mood is officially murdered, because she is dead serious. She moves so there’s space between us and busies herself washing her hair, shaving — and just showering. Fuck my life. This shouldn’t be this hard. My dick — or dating.

I dress myself uncomfortably, after talking my penis down, in chinos and a white cotton shirt. Feeling fresh after the drive and afternoon outside, I hope that things are less awkward at dinner. Maybe this wasn’t the best second date idea ever. We join everyone in the dining room for dinner, Melissa is seated between myself and Fallon; Lycan, Emily, and Tala are all on the other side of the table with Luke’s daughter and grandson. I have no idea why his wife insists on this formal dinner every year, it’s hot as Satan’s left testicle in here, and no one really wants to eat a big meal.

The conversation is mostly politics, which college is better, and a general dick measuring contest. I’m bored, and Melissa keeps wiggling in her seat like she cannot wait to bolt. I half expect her to run as soon as the dessert plates are cleared.

“Bonfire on the beach,” Luke announces, standing up. Typical of Montauk, the evening weather has turned and there’s a cold wind off the ocean. Melissa shivers as we get out on the deck.

“I’ll go back and get us a sweater,” I say. “You go down to the beach with the kids.” I give my son the side-eye so he knows I’m in no mood for shit. Lycan snickers, grabs his girlfriend, and walks off ahead. Tala, whose boyfriend appeared out of thin air, didn’t hang about long after dinner. I bet they won’t be on the beach either — I’ll chop a dick off if I catch them.

Kate corners me on the way to my room; I almost forgot she was here. “Your girlfriend seems nice, not the girl we saw at polo?” It’s an insult not a question.

“No, Kate. It’s not. I see you’re here alone again this year.” She turns puce, I touched a nerve. “Excuse me, I’m going to fetch my girlfriend a sweater.” I side step her, leaving her huffing in my wake. She’s why I don’t date women from our circles — they’re fucking vultures. I rummage through Melissa’s bag to find her a warm top. She didn’t pack one, so I take out both of mine; it’ll have to do. I take a shortcut down the hall so I can cut through the office, impatient to get back to Melissa. As I am about to pull open the door, I hear whispers, and pause.

“He’s going to find out, Fallon.” The name stops me in my tracks — worse is I know the voice saying it. “I can’t bang you and your dad; Tinder should have some sort of family warning system built in.” I’m not going to wait to hear more. That was enough, I go to our room and pack my things. It’s easy to escape unnoticed while everyone is at the beach — everyone except my date and my son apparently. By the time I get back to 9 on Hudson and inside my apartment, my simmering anger is full blown rage.

I can’t just let it go. This boy is messing around with older women, ones with small children. Ones more than ten years older than him. Where did I go so wrong? How did I manage to fail this badly at parenting? At fucking everything — failure isn’t something I like, and this feeling leaves me foaming at the mouth.

Things need to change in this household. Before my children wreck their lives.