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“Yes, ma’am. Shall I send him up?” I can’t speak. My mouth opens and closes. How did he find me here? What the hell is he doing, showing up at our hotel at eight in the evening? “Ma’am?”
“Yes, uh, yes, send him up.”
“Gladly. Thank you.” The front desk manager hangs up with a click.
I stand there, feeling overwhelmed, and a sense of panic starts to rise in my chest.
Dad knows I’m staying in a hotel with Angelo.
Panic turns to horror.
Dad knows I’m here, in a room, with Angelo.
The terror overwhelms me and I can’t move. I can’t do anything but stare at the door. Dad’s coming, right now, he’s coming. Right after I had sex with Angelo, my Dad is coming to visit, and I don’t know why. I’m so afraid of what he’s going to say and what he’s going to make me think, and I suddenly want to call the front desk back and beg them not to let my father come up here.
But it’s too late. I hear footsteps outside above the drone of the shower in the other room.
He knocks twice and I move forward woodenly.
“Hello, Sara,” Dad says, and I open the door a crack. “I wasn’t sure you’d let me come up.”
“Dad. How did… what are you… what’s happening right now?”
His lips press into a tight line. “I told your friend Robyn that there’s a medical emergency and that I needed to speak with you right away. She told me that you’ve been staying here, at this hotel.”
Robyn. Shit. “Is there an emergency. Is Mom—?”
“No, Sara, everything is okay. Except for you.”
I’m so mad I could scream. “You lied?”
“Not exactly. There is a medical issue, and besides, I did what was necessary. You weren’t at your own apartment. I checked, multiple times, and you simply weren’t there anymore. I had to find my own daughter.”
“Dad, you could’ve just asked me.”
“And, what, let you mislead me?”
“Funny, considering.”
He gives me a harsh smile. “We need to talk.”
I swallow a lump in my throat and step aside. Dad breezes into the room and looks around. I’m suddenly very aware that Angelo’s been using the couch as a bed. There’s a folded blanket, a few pillows. It’s obvious I’m not alone in here, and I can feel Dad’s disapproval growing.
“Can I get you something?” I ask, feeling stupid and not sure what else to do.
He slowly turns to me. “You’re staying with him, aren’t you?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Tell me what to think then.”
I clear my throat. How can I explain this to him without sounding insane? “You know the case I’m working on is dangerous.”
“I was under the impression that it’s unsavory. But dangerous?” He makes a face. “What have you gotten yourself into, Sara?”
“Angelo’s just… he’s a friend and he’s helping me. He’s keeping me safe.”
“Oh, honey, this is unacceptable. It’s simply unacceptable. How could you?”
“Dad, please, before you rush to judgment—”
“You’re staying in a hotel room with a goddamn criminal, Sara. My daughter, my only child, is sharing a bed—”
“We’re not sharing—”
“—my only daughter is living with a goddamn gangster. Tell me why I shouldn’t be upset. This is embarrassing. This is mortifying. Can you imagine how this is going to look?”
I open my mouth to apologize—
And stop myself.
Why the hell do I care how it’s going to look? What does it matter to me if Dad is embarrassed? So what if his judgmental asshole friends at that snooty horrible club think his daughter is a tramp or whatever. None of that matters, not anymore.
“This is my decision. This is my life. If you don’t like it, you can walk out of that door.” I stand aside and gesture. “Go ahead. Leave.”
Dad’s face twists with rage.
I’ve never stood up to him before. My head’s dizzy and my heart’s going on overdrive. I’ve never wanted to deny him, and for so long I thought my father was perfect, or at least that he knew the right way to live. I thought if I could only meet his exacting standards, I’d finally be happy. I wanted success and money and prestige and everything he’s managed to build, and I wanted his love and approval.
I wanted to be worthy of my famous surgeon father.
Now all I want is to be left alone.
“You don’t understand what’s going on here,” Dad says softly like a white-hot fire crackling through the room. “I know, Sara.”
“You know what?”
“I know that you’re pregnant.”
My mouth opens. I feel like I’ve been hit with a truck. I try to find words. But I don’t know words anymore. I don’t know how to move, how to think. My hands cover my belly instinctively and I try to make sense of what he just said but it’s like a black hole in my brain.
This can’t be happening.
This isn’t possible.
