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On the tenth day, I reach a new level of sadness I’ve never felt before.
I’ve been rejected once again.
I’m feeling horribly down when I hear the doorbell ring. My heart leaps as I momentarily fantasize that this has something to do with my father. Except, adding insult to injury, the man at the door is none other than Randy, who looks at me with a creepy leer and says, “Well, well, here’s pretty Petra finally. I’ve missed you, babe.”
Without a second thought, I swing the door wide open and order the dogs, “Get him, boys!”
All three dogs burst outside barking their heads off. Randy’s face contorts into a nasty look of anger as he stumbles back. Dave starts jumping up and down, and that’s all it takes for Randy to turn tail and sprint back to his car. Dave nips at his heels the whole way.
I holler at him, “Don’t ever show your face here again, you loser!” And then I can’t help but laugh. “Good dogs, come inside now.” They earned a handful of treats for that.
I can’t wait to tell the guys about this.
Forty
Callum
Eleven days.
That’s how long that fucker took to acknowledge his daughter’s extension of an olive branch. I thought our sweet Petra was going to have a nervous breakdown waiting to hear from him. Thank God we have our own resident shrink in case that were to happen. Seriously, I know she couldn’t sleep, and she was eating very little. In the past few days, there wasn’t much Weston and I could do for her outside of watch her fret and try to reassure her that everything would work out eventually.
Sex is great, but it doesn’t solve everything.
Finally, he had his flunky call and tell her they are on their way down here and they’ll be here in a about an hour. He couldn’t even call himself? And who just says, “We’re on our way,” like he’s the king of the world and Petra didn’t have plans for her Saturday? I’m so unimpressed, and I hope there’s a good reason for all of this misery. I also feel bad for springing my family on them with not much more notice than this. It’s different looking at it from this perspective, I realize.
Naturally, Petra is going crazy trying to make sure the house looks perfect, so she and Weston are vacuuming, mopping, and dusting like house elves while I throw together snacks and something for lunch as quickly as possible. The house looks fine if you ask me. Every so often, I catch Weston’s eye and we both roll them at each other. I think he shares my doubts about this guy. About ten minutes before the appointed arrival time, Weston gently tells Petra that she might want to go take a fast shower and put on something a bit nicer.
She looks down at her wrinkled t-shirt and yoga pants and gasps, “Ohmigosh, you’re right!” and she barrels up the stairs to pull herself together. In eight minutes, she’s back down again looking like a new person, as Weston and I put away the cleaning supplies. Then we both go grab clean shirts.
I kind of liked the yoga pants, actually. They make her cute butt look delectable.
Right on schedule, the three dogs run to the door as we hear a vehicle pull up out front. Since I’m the closest to the foyer and very curious, I open the door. I see a handsome Asian man who must be the guy they called Bing step out of a limousine and open the back door. His expression is one of solicitousness and concern—which puzzles me a bit—as he helps an older gentleman out of the car.
Before I can say or do anything, Petra rushes past me with the dogs hot on her tail. She comes to a halt about a yard away from him as she stares into the face of her father for the first time since she was a baby. I can’t see her expression, but Jameson’s face beams at her with a glorious smile. He silently opens his arms to her, and she goes to him, snuggling into his chest. His head drops to hers so that his cheek rests on her hair, and his eyes close. No words have been spoken yet, but the scene is so achingly tender, my throat closes. I feel a tear dribble down my face that I quickly dash away.
Weston steps up beside me, slips his arm around my waist, and I hear him sniffle. “She needed this so badly,” he whispers. I guess he’s as moved as I am by the sight of our beautiful woman finding her long-lost dad at last.
Even the dogs are being polite and sit quietly behind her like three gentlemen. Somehow, they pick up on the intensity of this scene.
Bing turns and faces us, and his eyes sparkle with unshed tears as well. He gently takes Jameson by the elbow and says, “Let’s get you into the house now. It’s chilly out here.”
Petra’s face is covered with tears as she turns toward us. She smiles and says excitedly, “Dad, I want you to meet Weston Alister. He’s a psychologist and this is his house. And this is Callum O’Malley, who’s an incredible chef and cooking instructor. And these guys,” she goes on quickly, “are Goliath and Dave—Weston’s dogs—and this is Gus, my dog. I bet they’d love to meet Storm sometime.”
We all shake hands as Petra’s father introduces himself to Weston and he introduces himself and Bing Ma to me. Jameson’s voice is a little wobbly, so I have to think he’s somewhat shaken by the circumstances.
We all head to the hearth room part of the kitchen where we’ve lit a cozy fire in the fireplace, and I offer coffee and fresh-baked cookies. I notice that Jameson is looking around with curiosity.
As he takes a seat he asks Petra, “Darling, it’s no doubt none of my business, but I’m sort of flabbergasted that you live in this house, as pleasant as it is, with roommates. I’d have thought you’d be living in your own stately home by now.”
Petra scowls for an instant before she answers, “I don’t make the kind of money quite yet to afford my own house, and I haven’t been in the market for a sugar daddy, so I’m not sure what you’re implying.” Uh oh. Her hackles are rising.
Jameson’s face looks horrified, and he quickly explains, “I only mean, what are you saving all of your money for? I’ve been contributing to your accounts for years, and there is no reason you need to rent a room from someone.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. What accounts? One of your letters mentioned a trust fund I’ve never heard of, and Bing mentioned an account that I assumed took care of my tuition, but I’m so confused! This is all news to me.”
Jameson closes his eyes as if struggling with his emotions. When he opens them again, he looks pained. “Petra, I cannot believe the depths your mother sunk to. I should have known she was capable of such subterfuge, but I always held out hope that she was a better person than current circumstances suggest. Unless she’s somehow gotten her hands on your accounts, you should have quite a fortune saved up by now.”
She looks stricken, and everyone is silent for a moment, so I decide to comment, “Petra, I think Weston and I need to head downstairs for a while to let you and your dad speak privately.” I look at my watch and add, “In fact, Declan’s game has been going on for a while already, and if I miss it, I’ll be considered the worst brother ever. My family might just ostracize me.” I look at Bing and ask, “Are you a football fan?”
