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“So, I have news,” I told him evenly, my hand pressed to the cold glass of the window.
My father sighed long-sufferingly, typing away at his computer as if it really couldn’t wait. “Connor, I don’t want to hear about another failed business venture, son. I’m busy with real work.”
I sighed and pressed my forehead lightly against the glass, watching my warm breath spread over the window. For years, I’d tried to find my niche in each and every venture I attempted. So many things interested me that it was hard to settle on just one. There had been a software company, a few unpublished books, and recently, a restaurant opening that had failed before it even began. They weren’t losses to me, just lessons that would lead to something more. Elias Lennox, though, was not a man to mess around with learning and lessons. To him, I was a slow disappointment of unrealized potential—a blight on his family tree. I didn’t need to try, I needed to succeed. Anything else was below his standard and absolutely unacceptable. Anything other than triumph was a complete and utter waste of time to my father. The one thing that remained constant was his insistence that I needed a wife, a family of my own to complete my life and fulfill my destiny. Despite my shortcomings, he never discouraged me in that aspect. I couldn’t wait to tell him about the girl—if I could only remember her name. Damnit.
“I have a girlfriend,” I told him, listening as the thin fingers typing over the keyboard stopped short. I let myself smile then, feeling a little more accomplished than I had when I walked in. I only hoped my father would never find out about the reality show aspect of the whole relationship. I imagined he would cut me out of his life entirely, never mind the inheritance I was set to receive on my birthday next year.
“Oh?” Elias asked me, his interest piqued. He coughed once again, quiet, and painful, and then I heard the low creak of his desk chair as he turned around and angled toward me. “How do I not know anything of this?”
I thought quickly, then. Why would I keep it a secret from him if it were something so important to me? How long was I supposed to say we had been dating? My father had always been suspicious of every little inconsistency. I tried not to stutter as I spoke. “We’ve only been together for a few months or so. I wanted to make sure she was the one before I told you.” I cringed internally at what had just left my mouth. Was that too much? I wanted to sell the lie but not oversell it so much that my father suspected me of a lie.
My father let out a low whistle and I turned to see him looking at me, his greying eyebrows raised high. “The one? I’ve never heard such a thing come out of your mouth, son. At least not in a serious context.”
“Well, you know,” I mumbled, leaning my back against the glass and trying my best to look casual and completely in love. What did men who were in love even look like? What was her name?
“I see now,” my father said, and from here I could discern the dark circles sitting like shadows beneath his sharp, pale eyes. He didn’t sleep much, I knew. “And when will I get to meet this…”
Oh no—oh no. A name, what’s her damn name— “Sadie,” I blurted out finally, letting out a relieved breath as my father watched me, calculating. “Her name is Sadie.”
“Sadie,” my father repeated as if testing the name on his tongue. He always did that, repeating names as if he could find the weakness in them.
“You can meet her soon,” I told him, nodding as I moved forward to stand next to his desk. He raised an eyebrow and I continued, on a roll. “We’ve recently moved in together, actually. We’re really happy together.”
Elias looked pleasantly surprised at my admission. “That soon? It must be serious between the two of you, then.”
“It’s—yeah— “I started with uncertainty. I wasn’t sure how much I should say and how much I would need to discuss with Sadie first. “I definitely really like her, yeah.”
“Well, that sounds promising. I look forward to meeting this young woman you’re so entranced with,” Elias nodded approvingly. He leaned over and let out a great, hacking cough and I winced. Years of smoking socially had given my father burned-out lungs and a bleak diagnosis. It was only a matter of time, though outwardly he looked almost normal. I could almost believe it wasn’t real. I wanted to believe it wasn’t real.
“We met in a coffee shop,” I said, thinking on my feet. I remembered our first encounter and the hot chocolate I had to have dry-cleaned out of my favorite shirt. Irony.
