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“Dad said he left of his own volition.”
“Your dad is skewing truths with lies. He does it all the time. Believe me, he’s the one behind all of this, so if you want to find Nate, you need to strike there.”
“He wouldn’t just tell me where he is if I ask.”
“I agree. He won’t. We need to think of a solution.” She appears thoughtful for a while, her eyes bright and the most focused I’ve seen them.
“Why…why are you helping me?”
“Because you’re my daughter,” she says it with ease as if it’s a given.
“Aren’t you supposed to hate me? Everyone thinks you have a thing with Nate. Maybe you did, or still do.”
“Nate and I were never like that. If sex had entered the equation, we would’ve lost each other a long time ago. In case you’re not aware, he stops seeing the women he sleeps with, since they’re a complication he doesn’t want to deal with. That’s how I know you’re different.”
“And you’re okay with that? Us being together, I mean.” I shouldn’t care about her opinion, but I do. Deep inside, I really do.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because he’s eighteen years older than me and I’m still young.”
“You’re not young, you’re a woman. And women have the right to make their own choices.”
“Dad doesn’t think the same.”
“Your dad is an asshole.”
I wince.
She grimaces and clears her throat. “Sorry. Sometimes, I forget he’s your father.”
“He’s not that bad, you know.”
“Yes, he is.” A sheen covers her eyes and they darken before she blinks it away. “Anyway, do you want to bring Nate home?”
“Of course.”
“In that case, I have an idea.”
37
Kingsley
“I’m pregnant, Dad.”
I choke on the water I’ve been drinking, the splatters scattering on the table.
There are only a few things that can make a father lose his shit. Having my baby daughter, my little angel, telling me this news nearly sends me back into a coma.
We’re having dinner and she just blurted it out as if she’s talking about how much vanilla ice cream she needs for the week. No, it’s worse. She’s dead serious when she talks about vanilla ice cream. Now, she’s just apathetic—meek almost.
My little Gwen has left and there’s only the shadow of her that is left behind. She hasn’t been eating or sleeping well, and she’s constantly in this daze that I haven’t been able to reach inside of.
And it’s not for lack of trying.
I’ve been preparing her favorite green tea with vanilla, but she gets teary-eyed whenever she sees it. She barely touches any of her vanilla stuff anymore.
She didn’t even eat ice cream for a week. That’s when I knew something was really wrong. It’s possible to get a drug addict of decades to quit, but it’s not possible to separate Gwen from her vanilla obsession.
