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“If you say so…” He shrugs.
Once the warmth and humidity hit my skin and the chatter of people fills my ears, the heaviness weighing me down diminishes significantly.
My lungs expand, and my lips stretch in a smile. I find the one available table, and we both take our seats around it.
Dad’s brown eyes narrow at me, studying me again. Maybe it’ll be like in the movies where he tells me,You have so much of your mother in you.
Maybe he’ll start by telling me abouther.
Except life doesn’t work that way. Despite our nearness to Hollywood, my real life appears to be the farthest from the movies they make there.
“You have it good here, I see.”
He does a slow perusal of my clothes, my purse. I don’t buy designer clothes and bags, but what I own doesn’t look cheap, either. I’m aware of that.
Why is it so important to him, though?
“Better than us.” He rubs the scruff on his chin. “That’s for sure.”
“Oh, stop.” I try to brush it off, making light of the situation. Hoping and praying to the lord this conversation won’t take the direction I’m worried it might. “You look great.”
“I’m not talking about my looks.” Darkness creeps over Zeke’s features. “But what would you know about it?”
Suddenly, I’m not so sure I want to call him Dad anymore. He’s a stranger, and the longer we sit here, the more evident it becomes.
A slightly creepy stranger.
What am I supposed to do? Get up and walk?
I’ve waited for this moment forever. How many nights I cried, the physical pain in my chest whenever I saw another kid chosen that wasn’t me. When the detective couldn’t find either him or Mom.
“Uh, okay…” is all I say.
I’m not friendly. I’m not sweet. I have to protect myself, regardless of my longing to belong.
“Financially,” he hisses, leaning over, his forearms taking up most of the table. “Listen. I won’t beat around the bush. I’m not father material. Never have been, never will be. The kids who grew up under my roof can attest to that.”
My heart rate picks up. His beer breath grows rancid in my nose as my panic rises. I have to fight the bile down my throat, hiding any sign of weakness.
“I need another daughter like I need the herpes one of my one-night stands gave me.” He bends closer, his fuck-you gaze locking me in place. “Do you understand?”
Nausea isn’t the only thing I’m holding back.
Don’t cry, don’t you dare goddamn cry.
My tears, the bastards don’t take orders very well. A couple drag down my cheeks as I stare at the man who sold me the worst kind of illusion.
He sold mehope.
“I do.” I drag my chair back to get up. “Don’t worry. I’ve been fatherless for all my life. I’m used to it by now. Goodbye, Zeke.”
His hand is quicker than I am. Long, powerful fingers shackle my wrist and keep me in my seat.
To an outsider, his hold might seem like a loving grip. He smooths his thumb along my skin over and over, and it takes everything in me to lock my whimper behind my lips.
Now I understand why he pushed staying inside. It’s for the exact same reason I wanted out. I dread thinking what force he would’ve used on me, what words he would’ve used, had we stayed relatively hidden.
“You’re not going anywhere.” His eyes twist, evil pouring out of them. “I didn’t come all the fucking way over here so you could turn your back on me…” His words as are hateful as his glare when he adds, “…rich girl.”
