“I’m not telling you not to talk to them. I wanted you to cool off. Talk to them, don’t confront them. Don’t accuse them. Have a conversation.”
“I don’t think I can do that.” I crack a smile. Being rational isn’t exactly what I’m known for. “If this turns out to be true, I think I have a right to be angry.”
“You do. You have a right to all of your feelings, Flynn, but what matters is your reactions to those feelings.”
I take a minute to process everything. What I could really use right now is a drink, but thanks to my medication, I can’t even indulge in that.
“Can I be honest with you for a minute?”
“I’d prefer it.” He smirks.
“I really wish you could come talk to them with me.”
Nineteen
Flynn
I try some of Liam’s bullshit breathing exercises on my drive home. Turns out breathing practices are a total crock of shit. The longer I drive, the more I’m able to think everything over. My thoughts return to their original angry state and there’s a good chance that the minute I get out of this car I’m going to verbally attack my parents.
A very large part of me believes they deserve it.
I pull in my driveway and throw my car door open. I slam it shut and storm into my house. So much for staying calm.
“Hi, sweetheart.” My dad is in the living room, one ankle crossed over his knee, with the newspaper held up wide. He pushes his glasses down his nose to look at me and a smile pulls at his lips.
Part of me wishes I saw my mom first. It’s easier to stay angry with her. Instead, I crack at his warm smile and soft tone. “Hi, Daddy. Where’s Mom?”
“In the kitchen. Are you okay?” He sits up, clearly reading into my tenseness and aggravation.
“I need to speak to both of you.” My dad folds up the paper, his blue eyes narrowing.
“Honey, get in here. Flynn’s pregnant.”
“WHAT?” My mom screeches and runs into the room.
“I’m not pregnant.” I shake my head. My blood pressure returns to boiling when my mom sits on the couch beside my dad. “I need you to tell me the truth.”
“About what?” My mom sits up straighter. She looks nervous. It’s almost as if she has a sixth sense and knows what I’m about to say.
“Am I adopted?”
My dad laughs, a full-on throws-his-head-back, grips-his-stomach belly laugh.
“What? Of course not.” I dig into my purse and pull out my evidence.
“Then explain all of this. Explain how we look nothing alike. Explain how I’m a fucking basket-case with a mood disorder. Tell me, Mom, why do you keep making comments about how I’m just like my dad and it scares you? My dad, as if it’s someone different than Carson’s and Lucas’ dad. How did you get a vasectomy and Mom still got pregnant? Do you know how rare that actually is?” I’m shaking, throwing papers at my parents and with each point, my voice gets louder and more shrill.
“Flynn, where is this coming from?” My dad is searching for an answer, glancing back and forth between my mother and me. My mom is still as a statue with tears building in her brown eyes. “Alice, tell her how ridiculous she sounds.”
“Chris,” my mom’s voice is watery. Something is becoming clear right now, to both me and my father.
“This isn’t—no.” My dad is shaking his head. His forehead is wrinkled as his brows angle into a deep v. He rubs a palm over his face, pulling at his chin.
“You didn’t know.” I fall back into the loveseat behind me. Never in my wildest thoughts did I imagine this outcome. I thought my dad was in on it. I don’t know what I thought happened, was it a one-time fling? Did my dad cheat first? Was my mom assaulted and kept me?
No matter the scenario, I thought he knew. I never imagined this. I never wanted this.
“Is it true?” My mom is crying now, swiping at her cheeks with both hands since my father let go of one of hers. “Dammit, Alice, is it true?”
“Yes.”
The one word that changes everything.
The tension skyrockets. I watch my dad crumble before my eyes. He’s horrified, staring at my mom like he doesn’t even know her. What’s worst of all, he can’t even look at me. He stands and storms to the back of the house, likely to lock himself in his office for the foreseeable future.
“Daddy.” He doesn’t stop. His steps don’t even falter as I call his name. I turn and glare at my mother whose cries are driving me into a murderous rage. She doesn’t get to be upset here. She did this to me, to us.
The only thing she can do is explain herself.
“I want to know everything.”
I follow my mom upstairs to her office. She digs around through her closet and in the back corner finds an unassuming box. If I saw it, I’d think it was old tax documents, not the key to my childhood. She places it on the floor between us and we both kneel down. Her hands are unsteady as they rest on top of the lid.
“Do you remember Jason, your dad’s old business partner?” I wrack my brain but come up empty. When I shake my head, her lips flatten and she nods in understanding. “That makes sense. You were young.”
“So, what, you had an affair with Daddy’s business partner?” What a fucking cliché. It takes me a minute, for my brain to catch up to the words.
