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The way he felt inside of me.
The way I felt when I woke up to find him still in my bed.
For a brief moment, I foolishly let myself believe that maybe he was feeling the buzz of undeniable chemistry too. That maybe I had misjudged him.
His abrupt shift snapped me out of that line of thought pretty quickly. And I’ve spent the last few days licking my wounds.
By the time I reach the restaurant, I’m irritated, but not wanting my father to know something is wrong, I try to push it down, plastering on the best smile I can muster as I approach the table where he’s already sitting, waiting for me.
He stands when I reach the table, his six-five stature towering over me as he leans down to press a kiss to my cheek.
“There’s my girl.” He pulls back, giving me a toothy smile.
My father isn’t what you would classify as obviously handsome. He’s not,nothandsome, but he doesn’t meet the stereotypical definition of it. He’s tall and lanky, with a thinning hairline and a small gap between his two front teeth. But he also has the best smile, with matching dimples on each cheek. The most beautiful gray eyes I’ve ever seen. And his laugh… There’s nothing else like it in the whole world.
“Please.” He gestures to the open chair, crossing around the small table to pull it out for me. Because that’s the kind of man my father is. A gentleman through and through. No wonder why my standards are so high.
“Thank you.” I take a seat.
“I already ordered. I hope you don’t mind,” he tells me, crossing back around the table. “Strawberry salad with extra pecans, right?”
I’m not the least bit surprised he ordered for me, as he often does whenever we come here. He knows I always get the same thing.
I wait for him to reclaim his own seat before answering.
“It’s my favorite,” I confirm, shifting in my chair. “Did you run into any traffic on the way over?” I pick up the glass of water in front of me and take a sip.
“It’s L.A. When is there not traffic?” He opens his napkin, laying it across his lap. Setting my glass down, I mirror his actions, feeling nervous when I know I shouldn’t.
This is my father. The man who loves me more than anyone else in the entire world.
But he’s also the person I fear disappointing above all others.
“I guess that’s true.” I laugh at my question, the pitch high and shaky.
“You okay, Clarke?” I meet my father’s warm but equally stern gaze, swallowing hard.
Breathe, Clarke.
“Yeah, just haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Wouldn’t have anything to do with this man your mother told me about, would it?” He reaches for his own water.
“What…” The word seems to catch in my throat. “I’m not sure what she told you…” I start, going on the automatic defense, but he quickly cuts me off before I get very far.
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Your mother may not believe you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but I know differently. I’ve seen firsthand how strong you are.” He doesn’t have to say more. I know he’s referring to my mother’s affair and the aftermath, among other things.
“What did she tell you?”
“Not a lot, but I got the basics.” He takes another drink before lowering his glass back to the table.
“And what are the basics?” I ask, wanting him to tell me outright what he knows before I go incriminating myself.
“Treyton Tyler.” He leans back in his chair. “Mom says you two have been spending time together and when she voiced concern, you got upset and the two of you exchanged some words.”
“We’re not… spending time together.”
“Right.” He nods. “You told your mother he was just a client. No offense, honey, but you’ve never been a very good liar.” He smiles. Actually smiles, the bastard.
