Page 97 of Dissonance

Thea

I’m uncomfortable. Not enough to stop what I’m doing, but there’s a low, persistent tightness sitting across my stomach. I shift in my chair, rolling my shoulders to stretch out my back, then scan the numbers on my screen again.

“Come on, baby, can you let Mommy concentrate, even a little?” I ask my bump, smoothing a hand over it. The tension eases slightly, and I exhale, the breath I’d been holding releasing in a slow stream, and start typing again.

I’m fine, it’s fine. My call’s in twenty minutes, but right now, my brain feels like it’s lagging half a second slower than normal. Pregnancy brain, right? And not the fact that I’m thirty-one weeks along and still trying to run my company like nothing’s changed.

Only, everything has. Every day, Lockie’s here, picking me up before I can work late, dinner always on by the time I’ve stripped out of my work clothes and into one of his t-shirts—the fabric no longer hanging loose over my stomach the way it used to, but still drowning me in his scent. He doesn’t make a big deal of it either, just slips into bed beside me at night, reading one of his pregnancy books or talking to the bump or kissing my neck, touching me without ever expecting anything back.

Pulling up my calendar, I glance at the clock in the top corner of the screen. If I leave on time, I could stop somewhere on the way home and pick up dinner, or I could actually cook for him. Something simple, nothing that requires standing on my feet for long or setting a bunch of timers going off every five minutes.

The idea starts to take shape, and I’ve got multiple tabs open with different recipes when another cramp moves through me, sharper than the last, enough that my hands pause over the keyboard. I wait for it to pass, fingers pressing lightly into the spot.

It does, slower than before.

Okay, fine. It’s probably just gas.

The knock on my office door is soft, the room already shifting before he’s even walked in. The air pulls taut, my spine straightening the way it did when I was young enough to understand that my father wasn’t someone you fidget in front of.

He steps inside, looking exactly the way he always does. Tailored suit, black-rimmed glasses, the quiet authority that used to make me feel like everything I was doing was being assessed.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says.

Straight to it, then.

I let out a breath through my nose. “Have I?”

“For two months, Thea.”

I don’t deny it; there’s no point when we both know I have. “I’ve had a lot going on.”

“I know, your mom told me.”

He moves farther into the room, taking it in before his gaze settles on me. For once, he looks uncertain, like he’s been rehearsing whatever he’s going to say but has now forgotten how it starts.

“I didn’t think…” he trails off, adjusting his glasses. “I didn’t think that wanting to make sure you were okay would—”

“Feel like you were taking over?” I say, the tightness shooting across my stomach. I try not to flinch, hand pressing back into it, keeping my face neutral.

“That was never my intention.”

“I know,” I say, because I do know that. “But that’s what it feels like. Like I never had room to grow and figure things out without you stepping in to fix things for me. And I needed to know I could do it without that safety net.”

He’s quiet, listening for once rather than waiting for his turn to speak. Which is new.

“You’ve done well here,” he says, catching me off guard. “I’ve been watching what you’ve built. The clients, the press, the way the industry talks about you.” Pride crosses his features as he pauses. “I didn’t realize how big it had become. I should have been paying more attention sooner.”

I freeze, lips parting, unable to say anything.

“I’m proud of you, Thea.”

I look away, jaw tight, eyes fixed on a point near my desk. My face goes hot, my throat tightening because it wasn’t supposed to matter this much. I told myself it didn’t, that I didn’t need it, that I’d outgrown it and his opinion was just noise now. I’m a grown woman; I do not need my father’s approval.

But apparently, I do, and some part of me has been waiting for this. The little girl who just wanted him to see her. And hearing it out loud, it’s like the pressure I’ve been holding has finally and completely gone.

When I look back, he’s still watching me.

“I know I haven’t always said that. And I know what I said at Ed’s was…” Shaking his head, he runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, looking less like a structured CEO and more like my dad. “I don’t want you under my company, Thea. That was never the right thing to ask. But if you need help finding the right people, building out a team so you’re not carrying this alone by the time the baby comes, I have contacts, resources. I can open doors without you having to step foot through them.” He meets my eyes. “You’d be running your own company; I’d just be your father who happens to know people.”