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“Yeah, I’m fine.” His voice suddenly quickened with alarm. “Are you okay?”
“Yes!” I squeaked, the lie popping out immediately as I remembered the second part of Max’s threat: If you tell anyone about this, he will pay the price.
“Allie.” His tone dropped to the stern, warning tone that always made me squirm. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no.” I forced the denial through my constricted throat. “Everything’s fine.” I scrambled for an explanation for my obvious distress. “Um, I’m just running late for work, and I’m worried that it’ll damage the review that Mr. Callahan will send to my university at the end of the summer. What should I say to fix this?”
“It’s not like you to be late.” More heavy disapproval. “What happened?”
“I, ah… I went out with Isabel last night. She’s an influencer, you know. Social media posts on new restaurants and stuff. I, um, had too many margaritas and overslept.” I winced, bracing myself for his censure. Anything was better than telling him the truth and putting his safety at risk, but his long sigh still made my stomach drop. “I know it’s totally unprofessional,” I rushed to continue. “I swear I won’t do it again. Please tell me how I can mitigate the damage?” The last lilted on a high-pitched question, my voice going thin with strain.
“Maybe you should come stay at the house for a little while. I knew it was too soon for you to move out on your own.”
“No!” My refusal was vehement and immediate. I’d been suffocating in that house. I loved my dad, but he’d watched my every move for the last decade. He loved me so much that he’d smothered me, especially after Mom died. He’d only allowed me the freedom to move out on my own two months ago.
“No, I want to stay at my new place,” I pleaded. “This won’t happen again. I just wanted your advice. Please?”
I wanted to hear your voice. I wanted to know that you’re okay.
I locked those worries behind my pursed lips. I didn’t dare breathe a word of my kidnapping to my father. Not with Max’s threats against him still echoing clearly in my mind.
Another heavy sigh. “Okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to come home. You’re young, and it’s normal for you to make mistakes. Just make sure you learn from this one.”
“Yeah, totally,” I rushed to respond. “I’ll never do this again. Trust me, I feel awful.” Mentally and physically.
“I can call Mike,” he offered.
“No!” I burst out again, my cheeks already burning with mortification. I’d be humiliated if Daddy called my boss to smooth things over. This summer was about proving myself, and I’d rather stagger into work drunk than have him call Mr. Callahan, his friend and former colleague.
“No, but thanks,” I added, struggling for calm. “This is my mess, and I need to handle it on my own. I was just hoping you could give me some advice. I’ll take responsibility for running late, but I can’t tell Mr. Callahan that I’m hungover. That’s unprofessional.”
Despite the fact that my hangover was a complete fabrication, a lead weight of guilt sank in my chest. I always took responsibility for my mistakes, and even though my condition this morning wasn’t at all my fault, I still felt the emotional gut punch of failure.
“In this case, a little white lie is okay,” Daddy reassured me, most of the disapproval ebbing from his tone now that I’d thoroughly admitted my supposed mistake. “Mike will probably be able to figure out the gist of the situation, but you’re right. It’s unprofessional to say you’re hungover. Just say you’re not feeling one-hundred-percent, but offer to work late to catch up on whatever you miss this morning. Assure him that you’ll stay until you meet all your responsibilities and then some. Mike isn’t unreasonable. He was once twenty-one years old, too. We’ve all been there.”
I huffed out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My dad was safe, and I was forgiven for my false transgression. “Thanks, Daddy. I’ll do that.”
“All right, princess.” The warmth returned to his tone. “Thanks for trusting me to give you advice about this. I’m glad you know you can call me with these kinds of problems. I’ll always be here for you.”
My throat tightened, and my eyes burned. “I know. I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. Now, get moving. You don’t want to be later than you already are. And drink plenty of water.”
“I will,” I promised.
When I ended the call, my legs turned to jelly, and I sank down onto my couch. I buried my face in my hands, pressing my palms against my wet lashes to hold in the flood of tears that threatened to overwhelm me. I didn’t have time to fall to pieces. My reputation was on the line, and I couldn’t tell anyone the terrible truth about what had happened to me last night.
