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“You’re leaving?”
“What do I have to stay for? I must have been nuts when I thought being here would do me good, having some crisis of conscience, or perhaps looking for some sort of parental guidance that has never existed between us. I’ll call a cab and be out of your hair—”
“Why would you need guidance, Lucian?”
He faced his dad and noticed genuine curiosity in his expression, but he couldn’t trust it. Christos only moved in methods of advancement and malice. There were no softer sides.
Lucian sighed. “Forget it. If I don’t see you . . .” He left the comment open, knowing it would likely be another five years before he saw his father again. He turned for the door.
“Wait.”
He stilled but didn’t face him. His father waited as well, and then finally said, “I lied. Tibet’s not sick—”
Lucian spun on his heels. “Who lies about something like that?”
“I am. I’ve been sick for quite some time. Had a heart attack back in November that put me on my back for a while. They did some invasive bullshit, opened me up.” He drew a line over his shirt, showing where his incision had been. “A few weeks ago I caught a bug. I tell you, once you have a heart attack, little shit like the common cold can feel like the plague. Today’s the first day I’ve been out of bed in a month.”
His father appeared thinner, now that he was standing. Lucian believed him. There was no reason not to, even if he did just lie about Tibet being the one that was sick. Still, for all the sympathy he felt for his mother when she had come close to death, he felt drawn in the opposite direction for his father. Yet an innate part of him wanted to go to his dad and comfort him, let him know he was there and everything would be fine.
“I don’t want the girls to know,” his father said. “No sense in worrying them.” He was quiet for a few beats, then in a small voice he said, “Or worse, telling them and realizing I mean so little to them now that they don’t seem worried at all.”
Weight crushed down on his chest, only angering him more. Fuck. “Guilt? Really, Dad? Bad form.” He drew a quick comparison in his mind between Pearl and Christos.
His father let out a breath of laughter as his mouth quirked in a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry. Pathetic, I know.” He sat back in his chair, and this time Lucian took notice of how winded and lethargic he seemed. He returned to his chair as well.
Christos cleared his throat. “So many times I wanted to call you kids and just say . . . hell, I don’t know, just say something. Isadora’s a woman now. You’re busy with business. I remember what that was like. And Antoinette . . . my sweet little Annie . . .”
“She hates being called that,” Lucian informed him.
“Well, she’s my baby. I can call her whatever the hell I please.” The words should have come out with a hint of laughter, but they didn’t. Instead they were laced with what sounded like anger. “I’m too weak to even fly. I can’t even get on a plane to see my own damn children!” His hand thumped on the desk. “I know if I asked you kids to come to me you wouldn’t. I have three children and not one of them likes me.”
Lucian pressed his lips together. All of his instincts were rallying up his sympathies, but for whom? This man was the same person who made him feel worthless on so many levels, made him feel like he would never be good enough. For all Lucian knew he was destined to be something totally different, but his father’s lack of faith challenged him directly where he’d landed. He had to be a success just to stick it up his dad’s ass.
Yet here he was all boo-hoo woe is me. Well, where the hell was he when Isadora found out she had a lump in her breast? Or when Toni got in a car accident when she was seventeen? How about when he . . . he came up short when he searched for some life-threatening moment in his own existence.
The only thing Lucian had ever truly suffered was losing Evelyn. The pain of burying Monique couldn’t equate to what he felt when he thought about losing Evelyn.
He looked at his dad and found his expression anxious. What could he say? You were a shitty father and husband?
“Tell me why you’re here, Lucian,” Christos whispered. “You came all this way. Don’t expect me to believe it was for nothing. I know you didn’t come to see me, but you came here hoping to find answers. Let me help you. Let me at least be there for one of my children.”
