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“So, Milton came to you?” I say a little flustered but trying to stay on subject.
“Yes, when you came back to Bayshore after your accident. He told us that he had been on your personal detail for a long time and that he couldn’t stand how your parents treated you and lied to you.”
“He disagreed even more with you marrying Matt,” Oliver cuts in. “He didn’t like how your family were pushing you into that marriage, and he knew Matt was an asshole with only his own gain in mind. So, he helped us keep you safe.”
I suddenly feel horrible for not even calling him by his name for weeks. I was kind of a bitch to him when all he was trying to do was keep me safe, and not because my dad paid him to do so, but because he actually cared. I make a mental note to apologize for my behavior the next time I see him.
“So, what are we going to do now?” I ask curiously.
“It’s up to you,” Oliver says. “We have two choices. We can either go to the police with what we have, or we can use it as leverage to get your dad off your back.”
I don’t answer right away, I let both scenarios run through my head, both have huge risks, neither one is great. I’m not sure what’s the right thing to do here, but I know one thing. Before I make a final decision, I need to talk to my father, I need to know about Phoebe and the connection between my father and George Bishop.
“Before I can even think about that, I need to tell you what I saw in my dad’s office last night. I need to tell all three of you.”
2
“Your dad and Shelby?” Sullivan asks, equal amounts of surprise and disgust lacing his voice.
“I don’t know what I’m more shocked about. Shelby having an affair with your father or our dads being friends,” Banks adds. “Even if it was a long time ago, I just can’t wrap my head around it.”
We are all sitting in the living room of the enormous hotel suite, and I just got done telling them about everything I saw last night. About my dad having an affair with my best friend, as well as the pictures and the love letter in the desk.
“Who do you think Phoebe is? You think she could really be your mother?” Oliver asks carefully.
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “I need to talk to my father.”
“We got a burner phone, you can call him from it, but you can’t tell him where you are or that we are with you. Not until we’re sure that he is going to leave you alone,” Banks warns as if I would do either thing.
“Got it.” I reach out my hand, and Oliver places a phone in it. When I look at the screen, I realize it already has a number pulled up. “Is that my dad’s?”
When Banks nods, I hit the dial button and put in on speaker, so the guys can hear too. He answers after only two rings.
“Hello,” his voice comes through the phone, and I can already tell he is aggravated by the deepness of his tone.
“Dad, it’s me.”
“Harlow, where in the world, are you? We have been worried sick. Are you with those Bishops again?”
“I saw you and Shelby last night,” I cut my father’s rant off, rendering him speechless for a few seconds.
“It’s not what you think.” My father tries to talk himself out of it.
“Hearing you fuck my best friend on your desk is pretty much confirmation, don’t you think?”
“Jesus, Harlow,” he says, sighing into the phone. “Okay, it is what you think, but I swear we never meant to hurt you, it just happened.”
It just happened? I don’t understand how that can just happen, but I don’t think long on the matter. I don’t care who my father fucks.
“Who is Phoebe?” My question seems to render him speechless once more. Proving to me just how important this Phoebe person is.
“How do you know that name?” he asks after a moment, his voice changing into a weird tone, almost nostalgic.
“I found the pictures and the letter in your desk,” I explain.
“I can’t do this over the phone, Harlow. Come home, and we’ll talk. I’ll explain everything to you.” At my father’s words, all three guys shake their heads no.
“I’m not coming home. Not today and maybe not ever again. Not after you tried to force me to marry someone for your own gain.”
“I want you to marry Matt for your own good, not my own gains. Everything I’ve ever done was for you. Why is that so hard for you to understand or see?”
I roll my eyes so hard, I swear, I see my brain.
