My father actually came home. Two hours later than he said he’d be, and with a mystery woman attached to his side, but I’ll overlook the details because having him here outweighs any of the negatives.
Even though he missed dinner.
“So, what is it you do for my dad again?” I ask Tina, following them into the unused home office.
She grins, grasping a folder under her arm as she makes herself comfortable on the dark leather couch. She’s beautiful in a spritely sort of way. Slim and petite, with a button nose and wispy bangs. But I can’t help the envy that swirls deep in my gut, knowing she gets untapped access to my father’s attention while the rest of us pray for a drop.
“I’m his right-hand woman. Your father would be lost without me.” She turns to him, smiling, and he winks back.
Gag me. Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I nod. “Oh.”
“She’s my assistant,” Dad chimes in.
“Is she the voice I always hear right before you rush me off our calls?” I lift my brows.
Lines form between his eyes, his lips turning down, and the little girl in me, still desperate for his approval, cowers at the stare. “I’m sorry, that was rude,” I rush out. “I just… it’s hard with you gone so much. Especially in this new place.”
He sighs, glancing at Tina and then back at me. “Leave, Tina.”
Her eyes widen, and she shifts in her seat. “Peter, we need to—”
“I need to speak with my daughter. Alone. Leave.”
She sucks in a breath and nods, setting down the folder that’s on her lap and slowly making her way out of the office door, her eyes narrowing as they land on me.
Bitch.
I watch her close the door behind her before spinning to face my father.
“So…” He smiles, walking to the front of his desk and leaning against it. “What’s new with you, little shadow?”
The term of endearment strikes out like a lasso, wrapping around my middle and tugging, nostalgia clawing at my insides. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him. I’m seeing someone. You’d hate him.
But I don’t want to wade those waters yet, still want to keep James to myself before I introduce him to family.
I force a smile on my face, an ache settling heavy in my chest. “Just working at the coffee shop and settling into the new place. Did you look around yet?”
His face softens, his eyes warming the way they used to, and with that simple look, my insides turn to mush, all my anger and resentment being drowned by the hope that flows through me.
“Not yet, but you’ve done a nice job setting the place up,” he says.
I wave him off. “That was easy. Jon and I have just been trying to acclimate to the weather, to be honest. It’s so different than Florida.” Pausing, my fingers twist together, palms growing clammy because this is a nice moment, and the last thing I want to do is ruin it with questions and nagging. Still, the words flow from my mouth before I can stop them. “When are you gonna tell him?”
His hands rest in his pockets. “Tell him what?”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling, blowing out a breath. “You know what, Dad. Tell Jon about the fact you’re shipping him to boarding school.”
He shifts, his palm coming up to rub at his chin. “Wendy, it’s been five minutes since I’ve been home. I haven’t even seen him yet. I’ll tell him, don’t worry.”
“When?” I repeat.
“When what?”
Frustration boils in my veins, my anger rising like lava, the pressure building in the center of my chest until it explodes out of me like a geyser.
My fists clench at my sides. “When are you going to stop by for more than a single night?” I hiss. “When are you going to realize that your children are here?” My hand slaps my chest. “We’re right here, Dad. And you’re…” I wave my arm around the room. “Everywhere else. You and Tina Belle.”
“Wendy, I—”
I raise my palm. “Don’t. Please, just… don’t. I am so sick of placating words and empty promises. I am so tired of feeling like I’m failing Jon when it’s really you who is. That’s not fair to me, and you know it.” A knot lodges in my throat. “And I know you’re busy, I get that. But damnit, just be here, Dad. Like you used to.”
His nostrils flare as he straightens off his desk, walking slowly toward me.
I lean back against the wall, sliding until I’m on the floor, pressing my palms into my eye sockets to try and stem the burn. I’ve never spoken to him that way before.
Shoes come into my line of vision and my dad crouches at my side. “Little Shadow.” He sighs, slipping down next to me, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Wendy.”
“Just say you’ll be here.” The words stick in my throat, the hole in my chest throbbing. “Say you’ll start to make us a priority.”
He’s quiet for long moments before his arm comes around my shoulders and brings me into his side. I bite my lip and swallow harshly to keep the sobs at bay. The last thing I want is to look weak in front of the man who’s always so strong.
“You’re the most important thing in the world to me,” he says.
“Doesn’t feel like it,” I mutter.
“You are. You always have been.”
“And Jon,” I add, irritation slicing through the haze of his attention.
“What?” His body tenses.
“You said I’m the most important thing in the world to you. But I’m not your only kid. You forgot to mention Jon.”
He clears his throat. “Right, of course. Jon too.”
“Sometimes,” I whisper, seizing my newfound confidence and running with it. “Sometimes it feels like you’ve forgotten we exist at all.”
There’s a tingling sensation on the top of my head as he presses a kiss to my hair, and I curl into him farther. “Please tell him,” I beg again. “I don’t want to be the one who does.”
He nods against me. “I’ll tell him in the morning.”
Blowing out a breath, I allow his words to wrap around me like a blanket, relief swallowing up the sadness—at least temporarily.
But in the morning, he’s gone. And Jon still doesn’t know.
