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This was all doomed from the start.
But now it's too late.
And I'm forever stuck in the purgatory of having him once be mine.
***
The phone rings, and I grab it, eagerly glancing at the screen. But it's not him. It's never him.
"Yes?" I ask, not recognizing the number.
"Clarissa."
I suck in a hissing breath. "What do you want, Father?"
"Can we talk?" He sounds like he's a million miles away, his voice quiet, tired.
"There's nothing left to talk about, father. You've proven just what kind of man you are. And I want nothing to do with you ever again."
"You need to underst—"
I cut him off. I don't want to hear it. "From you, I need to understand nothing! I protected you. But I shouldn't have. Because I finally realize it'syourjob to protectme.And you never,everhave." My hand comes up to rub my chest, trying to ease the ache that hasn't lessened from the day he kicked me out of his life. "You gave me the advice once to pretend that I never knew the Baxter's existed. And I didn't listen. I'm going to give you the same advice now. And you should take it - pretend that you never had a daughter. She's forgotten that she ever had a father."
I hang up.
And for the last time, cry over the loss of a father I never really had.
Chapter 48
Matthias
"Hesmells."
"Like,reallybad," another voice adds.
"Should we hose him down or something?" That has to Kylian.
"It won't reach." Damien. Always the pragmatist.
"Okay, I have an idea. Everyone, grab your perfumes and colognes! And on three, we'll spray. Ladies, you take the top half, Damien and Kingsley will take the bottom half." Kylian. Again. Whatever the opposite of pragmatist is.
Someone snickers. A woman. Definitely Kiara. "What about you?"
"I'm the foreman," Kylian says. "Sheesh, we all have our jobs. Ready? One. Two. Thre—"
I crack open an eye. "Get away from me."
"It speaks!" Kylian screeches.
I squeeze my eyes shut. "When I get up, I'm going to grab grandfather's letter opener, and I'm going to hold it out, and I want you to run towards it really, really fast."
Kylian scrunches up his face. "That actually sounds like it might hurt quite a bit. No thanks."
A hand grabs my arm and pulls me upright. Kingsley.
I groan. "Kingsley. You, too. You can take turns impaling yourself. Please. It can be my late birthday present."
"I think you're not getting birthday presents for a while," Damien says, nudging me with his foot.
