Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“Did you think this was all a joke? Bianca and me being together? We’re having a baby. What did you think was going to happen next?”
“I don't know what I thought.” She looks downright defensive when she wraps her arms around herself, and the way her chin juts out tells me this isn't going to be an easy, straight-line conversation.
“You thought this was some crazy, midlife crisis thing, didn't you?” When she looks at the floor, I know I'm right. “I hate to disappoint you, but this is the real deal. I know what I want. And I am so terribly sorry if it hurts you, sweetheart.”
“That's easy to say when you’re not on the receiving end.”
The amount of bitterness in her voice leaves me recoiling. “It's the truth.”
“Well, it does hurt.”
“Then let's talk about it, for God's sake. Do you know how long I've wanted to have an honest conversation with you about this?” She scoffs, turning her gaze toward the window again. I’d throw something through the fucking window if I thought it would help. Anything to break through this wall she built between us. It wasn’t always this way, but it’s not like I’ve done anything to improve it, especially not in the past couple of months.
I lean against the desk, shoving my hands into my pockets while I fight to find the right words. No matter what I say, it’ll be a mistake. There’s no way of getting through this without shedding blood, figuratively or otherwise. “Tatum, it's clear you're suffering. No amount of pretending you're fine will fix things. I don't want to hurt you, but I won’t know what does or doesn't hurt you if you don’t talk to me.”
“This hurts me,” she whispers, hunching her shoulders. “We grew up together. We’re the same age, and now you want to marry her?”
“She's having my baby, sweetheart.”
“I know, but that's one thing. I could live with that. These things happen, but deciding to get married? That's so much more. And I have to say, I really wish you would have come to me and let me know what you were thinking about before all of this.”
“To be fair, I didn't plan on asking her this soon. It sort of... happened.”
Her head tips to the side before she turns slowly and hits me with a very knowing look. The sort of look that cuts through me and might as well be delivered with a blade to flay my skin. “Dad. Nothing just sort of happens with you. You plan out every step. You deliberate over every choice. This isn't the kind of decision you make on the fly. Especially not a man like you.”
At first, all I can do is chuckle. “Sometimes I forget how perceptive you are. It's been just the two of us for so long.”
“Don't do that. Don't make it sound like we were the two musketeers or whatever. That's not how it was, and you can't rewrite history.”
“I can accept that,” I murmur. She’s seemed like an unsolvable riddle for so long, but now I see she's an onion. Each layer I peel back reveals more layers beneath, and those layers are marinated in grief, anger, resentment, and betrayal.
“I'm not saying you weren't a good father. You did your best, and I always felt safe with you. I felt like you wanted me around. Most of the time,” she's quick to add while her lips tighten in disapproval. “When you weren't consumed by work.”
“Which I was a lot of the time. I know.”
“But at least you wanted me around, unlike my mother.” My heart aches when her voice trembles on the word. My poor, wounded child. I wish I could take the pain she feels away.
“I want you around now, too.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Loving Bianca doesn't mean I love you any less. I don't feel like I should have to say that out loud, but I will in case it helps.” How much have I failed her if she truly needs me to explain that?
“I know you love me. But it's just weird, Dad. I can't pretend it isn't. You used to complain that we made too much noise when she slept over. And there was that one time when we were kids, and I had the pool party for my birthday. Do you remember that? She changed into a two-piece once she got here because she knew Charlie wouldn't let her wear it, and you gave her so much shit over it. Do you remember that?”
I do, and I can see where her discomfort is coming from. “She's not that little girl anymore, and neither are you. You're both grown women.”
Her hip pops out to the side, telling me I walked into a trap with my eyes wide open. “So you would be okay if I started dating Charlie? The two of you are pretty close in age.”