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I gripped the dresser, relief flooding my veins at his words. The divorce meant that she wouldn’t have access to money to support Randall in this trial, which meant there was a bigger chance of him going to prison for what he did.
“Where are you wanting to eat at?” I asked him.
“We can try that new Italian restaurant that just opened downtown. Does that sound good to you?”
“That sounds fine. I’ll meet you there soon,” I told him. “I just need to call Christian and Caiden and inform them of where I’m going to be.”
“Okay, honey. I’ll see you in a little bit, then. I love you.”
My heart squeezed in my chest, tears suddenly springing to my eyes. I blinked them back. “I love you, too, Dad.”
I hung up, calling Christian and Caiden right after, putting us into a three-way conference call on my phone. “Yeah, babe?” Caiden asked. “You good?”
“I’m okay,” I assured him.
“What’s going on, beautiful?” Christian asked me.
“Dad called me,” Caiden grunted in displeasure. “He wants to have lunch. He said Mom won’t be there—that they haven’t seen each other since the last dinner we were all supposed to have together. Their divorce is also in the last stage of being finalized.”
“Well, thank fuck for that,” Caiden grunted.
“Go. Be safe. Call one of us if you need us,” Christian ordered. “Make sure you take your anxiety medication with you so you can take one if you feel an attack coming on.”
“I will,” I promised. “I love you both.”
“I love you,” they both responded at the same time.
“Be careful,” Caiden added. “Let us know when you make it there so we know you made it safely.”
“I will.”
“Good girl,” he praised, making my cheeks burn, but I had to admit that I loved it when I did something that pleased him like this.
“I’ve got to go,” Christian told me. “Be safe. I love you. Make sure you eat while you’re there.”
I sighed. I really wasn’t all that hungry, but I knew I needed to eat. “Okay. I love you, too.”
Caiden also hung up a moment after Christian. Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, I stood up and walked to our bedroom to get a quick shower and get dressed in something a bit more suitable than my booty shorts and tank top.
Dad was sitting at a table near the front when I walked in, and he stood and smiled as soon as his eyes landed on me. It was a casual restaurant, which I was thankful for. We hadn’t yet gone shopping for maternity clothes for me, so I was stuck living in leggings and one of Christian’s t-shirts.
He wrapped his arms around me in a hug. I couldn’t help but sink into his warm, fatherly embrace, my own arms wrapping around his midsection. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “How have you been?” he asked me.
I shrugged as I took a seat. “Tired.” I yawned, blushing immediately after. “The baby drains me.”
His eyes widened in shock. “Baby?” he asked. I frowned, trying to remember if he had been told of my pregnancy, but judging by his face, I guessed not.
“Um, yeah.” My cheeks darkened. “I’m almost fifteen weeks pregnant,” I informed him. “Wednesday will mark fifteen on the dot. Christian is the dad.”
He smiled at me. “You and your two boyfriends seem extremely happy together. As long as you’re happy, I don’t care.” Tears burned in my eyes at his words. It was the love and acceptance I had been seeking from my parents for years.
A waiter came to our table before I could say anything else. I ordered an ice water with a lemon, and Dad ordered a glass of one of their wines. He turned his attention back to me once the waiter walked away. “Axel mentioned that you had to take a break from school due to your, um…”
“My mental disorders,” I stated. “That’s what it is, Dad. I have multiple chemical imbalances in my brain.” I shrugged. “I’ve mostly gotten used to it.”
He frowned. “I don’t like calling them disorders,” he admitted.
I gave him a small smile. He looked so disturbed by my choice of words. “I have multiple ones, Dad,” I gently repeated. “It’s just easier to call them disorders. It’s not as simple as just saying I have depression, or I have anxiety.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “I suffer from bipolar depression, anxiety, and schizophrenia.”
“The schizophrenia is new,” he noted.
He’d remembered.
I nodded. “It just popped up a few months ago.” I resisted the urge to rub my wrists, the night Christian helped save my life flashing into my head. He’d barely met me, and yet, he was there for me the moment I needed someone. He hadn’t looked at me like he was disgusted, nor did he freak out. He just wrapped me up in his arms and got me calm, being the calming, steadying force I needed.
