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“I’d say it’s more chemistry than anything. I majored in chemistry and biology in college.”
Anthony shifts his attention to Davis. “Remind me what you went to school for, Davis?”
Davis’s leg pulls back from mine, and I frown, sneaking a look at him.
“I didn’t.” Is all Davis utters in response. Anthony smirks, and now I’m the one with the sour look on my face. Really? What a dick. Who cares if Davis went to college? Did Anthony think he was proving something with that question beyond the fact that he’s a judgmental asshole? My dislike of this man keeps growing and growing.
Uncomfortable silence drifts back over the room as I pick at my food, my appetite nonexistent. Davis is the only one eating. Serafina appears to be drinking her dinner while Anthony keeps inspecting me until I want to crawl out of my skin.
“I understand you moved around a lot growing up, Miriam.” There he goes with my fucking name again.
“Yes.” I don’t feel a need to fill him in on all the details. Especially since that creepy smile is working up the corners of Anthony’s lips again.
“Such a shame your mother couldn’t provide a steady home for you.”
My mouth pops open, but I’m honestly too stunned to think of a reply off the top of my head. Who does this guy think he is?
“Location doesn’t equal steady,” Davis says, surprising me enough that some of my anger momentarily fades. I offer him a brief smile before turning back to Anthony.
“My mom was incredible. I never wanted for anything.”
Anthony smirks, picking up his wine and taking a sip. He keeps the glass in his hand, swirling the dark liquid around. Irritation bubbles beneath the surface of my skin, and I want to slap him. Or maybe I should throw my salmon in his face.
“Your mother was a thief.”
“Excuse me?” The words barely escape my gritted teeth. Davis’s hand lands on my back as I lean forward like I might leap over the table to choke a bitch. The heat from his hand burns through my shirt and soaks into my skin, oddly calming me.
“She took several important things from me. One of them being my daughter.”
Anthony’s eyes are drilling into me. Serafina hefts out an annoyed sigh from the other end of the table, like we’re forcing her to sit through a lecture on dirt. Is Anthony implying that he’s my… dad? Oh god, no.
“Did she never tell you who your father is, Miriam? That she stole you away from me before you were even born?”
Davis’s hand on my back might be the only thing keeping me from floating away. I don’t know what I expected out of this dinner, but having this paternity bomb dropped on me was not it. My mom always said that my dad changed after they were together, and she needed to get away from him. To protect her, to protect me. That’s all she would ever share about him.
Once I’d looked through her things to see if I could find any information on him. She’d barely had anything of a personal nature in her drawers. After I moved in with Dani, I begged her to tell me stories about my mom and even asked about my dad. While she had plenty of memories to share about my mom, she would never tell me anything about my dad. Just that he wasn’t a good person.
Now I’m sitting at “not a good person’s” table, in his cold but fancy house, wishing to be anywhere else.
My chair screeches against the tile as I stand up, Davis immediately at my side. “Thank you for dinner, but I think it’s best we leave now.”
“Miriam, I’d prefer if you sat down.”
“Raincheck,” I spit out, hurrying toward the door.
Davis is right behind me, pulling the large front door shut with a loud bang as I speed walk over to his bike. “Can we get the hell out of here?”
“Fuck, yes.” Davis sighs, tossing me a helmet and throwing his leg over the bike and starting it with a loud roar. I settle in behind him, my arms wrapping around his waist and holding tight. My head is spinning in a million different directions and clinging to Davis is the only thing keeping me grounded.
The ride back to my house takes way longer than it should, and I’m grateful. I’m not ready to go into my house and be alone with the information that was just shoved down my throat. It doesn’t matter where we’re heading. I just hang on and enjoy the feel of having my arms wrapped around Davis and the icy wind whipping against my face.
It’s still too soon when Davis pulls up to my house. He’s turning off his bike before I can tell him to keep going. Not that we’re going to ride in circles around the island all night, but if we keep moving and can’t speak, then I can pretend that nightmare didn’t just happen.
Dinner at Anthony’s, yeah, I’d be okay with never doing that again. The only positive of the night has been riding on the back of Davis’s bike, having his muscular body beneath my palms, between my thighs. Not going to lie, I might be willing to have a repeat of the world’s most uncomfortable meal to do it again.
Just before I’m about to get off the bike, Davis’s hand lands on my knee and he gently squeezes. My heart leaps up in my throat and I swallow thickly. Was that a sympathetic, sorry you found out your father is a psycho, squeeze? Or a time to get off my bike squeeze?
I linger for a moment before I get off the bike and Davis surprises me by following. He takes my helmet and his own and puts them on the bike before walking me up to my front porch, both of us quiet. For a brief moment, I’d been able to block out my thoughts and just concentrate on the vibration of the bike, and how Davis smells of a storm and the ocean.
