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This moment was getting to me, but I refused to let it get out of hand.
Instead, I looked at Davit.
“I don’t know, but I can’t wait to get this over with,” I said.
“He will be here—” There was a knock at the door. He smiled, then looked at me. “Now.”
He stood, but before he went to the door, he squeezed my hand.
I appreciated that, though I couldn’t talk about it right then.
Instead, I was too busy trying to keep the emotions that suddenly felt overwhelming at bay.
As Davit crossed over to the door, I stood, then sat, then finally stood again.
Something about being on my feet felt important.
I still hadn’t quite figured out why I was so on edge, but that voice inside of me, the one that I had gotten better at listening to, told me that this was important. And told me that it would change everything.
“Davit,” he said as he walked in.
I studied him, noting that in his mid-sixties he was still attractive, dressed to the nines, handsome, suave, intelligent, smooth in a way that had always made me feel inadequate.
A feeling that only increased when he finally acknowledged me.
“Amy,” he said.
“Hey, Daddy,” I said.
I resisted the urge to correct myself and call him Mr. James. After all, we weren’t at work anymore.
He looked me up and down, then met my eyes.
“You look tired. And bloated,” he said.
“I missed you,” I said.
He smiled as he walked over.
He sat on the couch, and I sat in the chair that I had vacated.
Davit hung by the door, looking pissed.
“I highly doubt that,” he said. I stared at him, my brows knitting confusion.
“Why do you say that?”
“I doubt you missed me, because you left without so much as a word,” he said.
“You know why,” I responded.
“No, enlighten me,” he said.
“You know why, Daddy,” I repeated.
He shrugged. “Because of this side deal with the Petrosyans? Or because of Keenan?”
“You know what happened to Keenan?” I asked.
