Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
I tried not to smile too brightly, but my insides were bursting with gleeful goo. “I’m great.”
We continued walking. “Is he yours?” My dad angled his chin toward the front of the restaurant where Marty stuck out like a sore thumb.
“Yup.” I hated having to say goodbye. “Can I put my number in your phone? It might be easier to text than talk through private messenger.”
“Sure.” He pulled out his cell. “What’s your number? I’ll send you a text now so you also have mine.”
I recited my number as he typed it in. A minute later, my phone vibrated. The message on the screen flashed: It’s Dad. And my heart did another cartwheel. “Got it.”
Marty held open the door and we walked outside.
“Hey, I didn’t see your truck.”
“I have Laura’s car today. She needed the truck to help Tiffany transport a set of rocking chairs.”
I frowned. “Who’s Laura and Tiffany?”
“Oh, Laura’s my wife, and Tiffany’s our daughter. She just bought a house in Upper Darby, a few miles from us.”
My insides chilled as all those warm gooey feelings turned to ice. “You have another daughter?”
“Two—well, three if you count you.”
If?
I could only imagine the expression on my face. I was numb from my lips to my eyelids. “How long ago did you… When…”
“I should have said something at lunch. I just assumed your mother told you.”
“Mom knows about them?”
“Well, not the girls, but I’m not a bigamist. We had to make the divorce final eventually, so I could...” Realizing my shock, his words tapered off.
I couldn’t feel my legs. “When did you get married?”
He looked down and I braced myself. “A few years after I left Oregon. The girls were born just before the wedding. Twins. Tiff and Trace.”
I couldn’t feel my legs. “I have sisters?”
“Well, technically, yes.”
Technically? Oh my, God. “Do they know I exist?”
He had the grace to look ashamed. “I wanted to see how this went—before I told them.” Seeing I was upset, he quickly said, “Believe me, kiddo, I plan to tell them about you. I was just waiting for the right time.”
I nearly choked. He had thirty years. “Your wife, Laura, she got pregnant when you were only dating?”
“That’s correct.”
“And you stayed with her?”
“Like I said, I was a different person in Oregon.”
I couldn’t breathe. My margaritas, burger, and chocolate brownie all seemed to settle in the pit of my stomach like tar. “I think I need to go.”
“Rayne.” He rushed after me. “We had such a nice lunch. I should have told you about them sooner, but I didn’t want to spoil our time. Today’s been incredible. I’d still like to come to the wedding if you want me there. Please don’t let this change things.”
My spine had disappeared and I could barely hold myself up straight as his request tried to knock me down. This changed everything.
Marty held open the door to the car. I debated what response was appropriate before climbing in. Nothing came to me. I was too blindsided to think.
You stayed with them, I wanted to say. You were there for their recitals and tea parties, their first days, and school conferences. How many of their scraped knees and booboos got kissed while mine never fully healed?
Tiff and Trace got a lifetime of dad jokes and memories while I got nothing but abandonment issues and a pair of green eyes that looked nothing like my mom’s.
But I didn’t say any of that. I just climbed into the car and looked up at him, wondering if this man would ever stop breaking my heart. Then I said, “I’ll text you when I get home.”
He looked like he wanted more, but Marty stepped in front of him and closed the door. Whatever was said next, I couldn’t hear, but I knew Marty said something he didn’t want me to hear.
My dad nodded with disappointment and walked away.
“What did you say to him?” I asked as soon as Marty got into the car.
He backed out with practiced ease. “I told him that you would contact him when you were ready and he is not to interfere in your life until that happened.”
I didn’t know if I should be grateful for his high-handedness or outraged.
Maybe I wanted my dad to fight for a relationship with me. Maybe he owed me that much. Or maybe this would save me the frustration that came with waiting for my dad to want to spend time with me when he was already so busy with his other kids.
“Mr. Davenport asked me to intervene if anything upset you. You are upset, no?”
“I guess.”
I was what I originally expected to be.
Disappointed by my dad.
It was upsetting indeed.
Hide and Go—Ooh, Tequila!
For once, I was relieved Hale was tied up in meetings all day. What would I say when he asked about lunch with my dad? Would Marty have already filled him in on parts?