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“You don’t know who I am?”
He bit his bottom lip, as if in contemplation, as he opened the door and motioned for her to come in. “I apologize if we’ve met, but I come across a lot of people every day.”
This was totally unexpected. Never, with all of her made-up scenarios, did she consider him not knowing who she was.
How could he not recognize her name?
Had it been so long that he just forgot?
Then, another possibility hit her squarely between the eyes, making her blink several times to regain focus.
Did her mom not tell him about her?
Her mom never liked talking about her biological dad. Mia assumed it was because he had forsaken them and so she kept her questions as brief as possible to spare her mom pain.
Never did her mom give the impression that she was a secret of some sort.
She inched inside and he further motioned her toward the kitchen where non-bio-bad was sitting at an island and eating.
“Are you hungry? I made chili the other night. It’s spicy, I’m afraid I like spicy foods.”
Of course he did. According to the GeneticallyNclined report he was of Portuguese descent. Like her.
She pulled her hands inside her sleeves and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t eat meat, and I’m not hungry and I’m not thirsty.”
“Okay,” he said, as if running out of ideas.
“I’m…”
He leaned toward her as if hard of hearing and she fought the awful and strange desire to… hug him. Geez, if she did then he’d really think she was crazy.
She took a breath and decided she didn’t come all this way for nothing.
Like her mom always said,Go big or go home.
“I’m not really lost. I’m here because… I’m your daughter.”
* * *
Lucas reared his head back.
From behind him, in a muffled cloud of reality, he heard the Chief’s spoon clatter in its bowl.
The girl sucked in her bottom lip and looked close to vomiting, tears starting to spring in her eyes.
Her eyes.
Sweet Jesus. They looked just like his.
No. That was crazy. Lots of people had brown eyes.
But with his shape and signature dark brows?
“My daughter?” he repeated while lowering his chin and raising his eyebrows, hoping he misunderstood—somehow.
She nodded, as if waiting for… what?
“What makes you think I’m your father?”
