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“It’s Dad.”
I push myself up to sitting.
“How are you feeling?”
I swallow. I’ve been able to attribute my nausea to stress. My mother’s untimely arrival certainly hasn’t helped in making me feel better. “Okay. Just sleepy.”
“I don’t blame you.”
I can hear him shuffling outside the door. “Do you need something?”
“I–um–I have some coffee cake downstairs. And a coffee if you’re feeling like you want to come down and hang out with your old man.”
I can’t say no to him. Not now. “Sure, give me fifteen.”
“Sounds good.”
I drag myself out of bed and try to pull myself together. As I pull on an old T-shirt, my hand brushes against the flat of my abdomen. A spark of anticipation runs through me. Won’t be flat for too much longer. I cup my belly and look in the mirror. “Be nice to me today, okay?”
I’ve taken to talking to my little still unnoticeable bump when I’m alone. It’s nice to have someone to whisper to in the late-night hours when I can’t seem to make sense of my mess of a life. It’s also a good distraction from wanting to talk to Grant. It’d be nice to have his deep voice rumbling against my ear, lulling me to sleep. However, I’m staying resolute.
I can’t do impulsive things when the ground is so unsteady. Must stay loyal to Dad. On top of that, Dad mentioned that Malcolm is giving Grant a hard time about Infinium. I’m sure the last thing he wants is to deal with me, his one-time dalliance.
Mother of his child.
I shrug off the stress and make my way downstairs. I find Dad having set out a nice little breakfast for the two of us on the back patio, the centerpiece of which being the coffee cake. I can’t get enough of it these days and have had it every morning since I started staying here. “Mmm. Thank you,” I say, plopping down in my chair. I’ll pretend to sip the coffee and pray Dad doesn’t notice I’m not drinking it. Don’t want too much caffeine in me.
“Of course. Least I can do to thank you for sticking around and hanging out with…with me,” he says with a half-smile.
“No thanks needed. You know that,” I say, cutting myself a huge piece of the cake.
“Can’t get enough of that stuff, can you?”
I take a huge bite and talk before I’ve chewed and swallowed. “I don’t know. It’s addicting.”
“Something like that,” he says off-handedly.
“You going into the office today?” I ask, sticking my feet up on a neighboring chair.
Dad twists the coffee cup on the table and shakes his head. “I’m meeting up with your mother.”
I roll my eyes.
“You could…come with me.”
“No. Sorry.”
“Harley…I need you to give her a chance.”
I stop eating and look at him with ire not meant for him. “Why should I bother? After–”
“Please don’tremindme.”
Things didn’t go so well when all the girls came over to see Mom when she arrived the other day. Every question we hurled her way was met with an overly politically correct and saccharine response. Nothing of meaning. No real reason she came other than a “compulsion” she can’t seem to describe.
Gillian bubbled with the most anger. “You’ve missed everything. I don’t give a crap about my life; you missed out on five amazing years withmydaughter. And I’ll never forgive you for that.”
Dana was miraculously silent the whole time. Of us all, I believe she has been the most betrayed, robbed of her fun college years in order to support the rest of us with everything she had in her.
