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“I’ll be there,” I said to my dad. “We’llbe there.”
I didn’t give him a chance to argue or respond, and quickly ended the call.
“Pacific Heights in forty-five minutes.” I leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Denton’s unsmiling mouth. “Are you ready?”
His mouth softened against mine and he returned my kiss with a gentle, searching brush of his lips. When he pulled back, his gaze was brighter, but still wary.
“Not really,” he said. “But I love you. And it’s time.”
Forty minutes later, we stood outside Oceanic, the five-star restaurant inside the Pacific Heights Hotel. I held Denton’s hand in a death grip and took a step inside, but he stopped me to pull me close.
“I love you.” He dropped a kiss on my lips, then rested his forehead against mine. “Whatever happens with your dad, you won’t lose me. Ever.”
I placed his hand over my lower belly. “You won’t lose us either.”
I threaded our fingers back together, and with one last soft kiss, walked into the restaurant to see my father.
He faced away from the door, his dark hair—so like mine—neatly trimmed and combed like usual as he bent over the table. A glass of scotch—Macallan 18, knowing him—sat untouched in front of him.
“Daddy,” I said gently as we approached the table.
He turned in his chair, his lips quirking up in a smile as he looked at me. But then his eyes fell to our joined hands, and his smile evaporated.
“Hi, Clive,” Denton rumbled. He pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit, then sank down into the vacant seat next to me. “It’s good to see you.”
Dad sighed. “Was it necessary to bring Denton?” he asked tiredly.
“Yes,” I said, tipping my chin up stubbornly. “If Denton can’t stay, then we can’t talk. I’m sorry.”
He frowned, eyeing both of us as he toyed with his highball glass. The amber brown liquid glinted in the light as he tilted it back and forth. Finally, he took a short sip, then gave us a jerky nod as he set the glass back down on the table.
“I know that you don’t like the fact that Denton and I are together,” I started, “and you don’thaveto like it. That’s…that’s okay. But IloveDenton and he loves me. We’re in this together, and you can’t ask me to choose between you and him.”
I hesitated. Underneath the table, Denton squeezed my fingers in his, and the silent encouragement gave me the strength to continue.
“You’re the best dad in the world.” A lump rose in my throat, and I swallowed, willing myself not to cry. “I missed you so much during the last few weeks, and I was so sad when you wouldn’t pick up the phone when I called.”
I took a deep breath to steady myself, then looked over at Denton. He smiled—the secret, intimate half-smile that he always saved for me.
“I’m going to have a baby,” I said softly. “You’re going to be a grandfather, and when I called you to tell you…you didn’t answer.”
My dad went still, his eyes unblinking as he took another slow, deliberate sip of liquor.
“I want you to be in my baby’s life. Our baby’s life,” I pleaded. “Mom’s gone, and you’re all I have. Ineedyou. Please don’t ignore me anymore.”
I reached out toward my dad. To touch his shoulder or grab his hand—I wasn’t sure what for. But I felt starved of his love after so many weeks, and I wanted nothing more than for him to tell me that everything was okay. For him to apologize.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he drained the liquid in his glass, rose from his seat, and walked away without a backward glance.
We watched him retreat in dumbfounded silence, until his tall form vanished into the lobby and out of sight.
And when he was gone, I buried my head in my hands and let the tears fall.
“C’mon,” Denton said, tugging me out of my chair and wrapping an arm around me. I buried my face against his chest and sobbed even harder. “Let’s get you home.”
The tears didn’t stop for hours. Not for the drive home, and not while I choked back the simple dinner that Denton prepared and placed in front of me.
