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If he had a daughter…
The words bring the only reservation I have about getting in deeper with Gideon bobbing to the surface. Is he open to having more children? Even after last night, I’m still hesitant to ask. Saying you love someone and want to move in with them is one thing. Asking them if they might want to knock you up one day and live happily ever after with three or four kids is quite another.
Babies are the ultimate escalation and Gideon’s son is already grown. He might not want more children. Or he might want to wait until we’re together for several years first, which raises concerns for me.
I’m in no big hurry to start a family, but I wouldn’t want to wait too long. Gideon’s already almost forty and I want my kids to have a father for as long as possible. Having lost a parent as a child myself, I know how hard that is.
But now isn’t the time to have that discussion. Even if I wanted to, we’re already stepping into the warm, comforting gloom of the restaurant, where my father is seated at his usual table in the back.
When he sees Gideon following me through the maze of tables, recognition animates his face. He surges to his feet, and my heart catapults into my throat. Panic dumps into my bloodstream and for a second, I’m positive I won’t be able to speak. I’ll just stand in front of my father, squeaking and hyperventilating until I manage to pull myself together.
But then, something unexpected happens.
My father’s eyes light up. And then…he smiles.
Before I know what’s happening, he’s laughing as he grips Gideon’s hand and claps him warmly on the shoulder. “Gabaldon, you sneaky son of a bitch. You should have told me, but you always did play your cards close to the vest.”
“Silas,” Gideon says, squeezing Dad’s hand. “Thanks for meeting us tonight. And thanks for raising such an incredible woman.”
Dad’s chest puffs up, but he only spares me a quick smile before turning back to Gideon. “She’s a rare one, that’s a fact. And even prettier than her mother. Come on, sit down. I’ll order a bottle of champagne to celebrate.”
Celebrate? He’s acting like we’re getting married, not announcing the fact that we’re dating.
And what happened to his warning about staying away from the competition?
Dad clearly wasn’t thrilled by the idea of me dating Adrian, but apparently his father is a different story?
“Sit, sit,” Dad continues, shooing us into the large leather-cushioned seats. “I want to hear how you met, and all about that development in Coney Island. I hear there’s been some trouble with the parking situation and your general contractor.”
I slide into the empty seat on one side of my dad while Gideon settles into the other. My father has positioned himself between us, a strategic move to divide and conquer. But as the champagne is delivered, we order appetizers, and the conversation continues to flow, he doesn’t seem interested in dividing, only…monopolizing.
Gideon keeps trying to include me—in the story of how we met and how we ran into each other again at Adrian’s party—but my father redirects him every time. He doesn’t seem interested in hearing from me at all.
I tell myself it’s because he knows how I feel. I’m not the kind of person to bring a man to meet my dad unless it’s serious. That’s why he’s focused on Gideon.
Still, I can’t help but feel excluded. I barely get a word in during appetizers and by the time our small plates are cleared, I’ve drunk so much water to occupy myself during my long silences that I need to hit the ladies’ room.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, scooting my chair away from the table.
Gideon looks up with a smile, but before he can speak, Dad asks him about another project somewhere in South Asia and I’m shut out again.
“It’s okay. It’ll be over in an hour. Ninety minutes, tops,” I tell my reflection as I’m washing my hands in the washroom. My dad’s famous for dragging out a meal, but even if we linger over dessert, we’ll be out of here by eight.
That leaves plenty of time to catch a cab back to Gideon’s place and conduct an in-depth postmortem about why my father was being so weird. Maybe Gideon will have a clue. He’s been to far more business dinners than I have.
Maybe this is how Dad is when they chat, and he’s having a hard time transitioning from a professional mindset to a personal one?
I reapply a coat of lipstick and fluff my hair, bracing myself for another hour of trying to break into the shop talk, but when I reach the table, the vibe is very different from when I left for the ladies’ room.
My dad sits in stony-faced silence, while Gideon…
Well, Gideon looks pissed.
I hesitate behind my chair, not certain it’s safe to sit down. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing you need to worry about, honey,” Silas says. “Gideon and I seem to have a difference of opinion, but that’s nothing new. We’ve always seen the world a little differently, but that’s why we’re such complimentary business partners.”
Gideon mutters something beneath his breath before pushing his chair back. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this, Sydney. I wanted to. For you. But I can’t make nice with someone who doesn’t see you the way I do. Or treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”
