“Suitors? What year is it?”
He smirks. “You deflect and self-deprecate and self-destruct to distract yourself from the reality that everything I’m saying is true.” I look away, but he uses the knuckle of his pointer finger on my chin to draw my eyes back to his.
“Not everything you said was true.” He waits, knowing I’ll explain. “The family part. It’s not so perfect after all.”
“Are you ready to talk about it?”
“There’s not much to say. My dad isn’t my dad. My mom cheated on him with her ex-whatever, a drug addict who overdosed. He’s dead, my dad can’t even look at me, and my mother won’t stop calling me as if an apology will suffice. Oh, I’m so sorry for lying to you and your father and ruining everyone’s life. But can we sit down and talk over tea?”
“I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard for you to hear. How do you feel about it?” He’s using his doctor voice on me. It’s calm and low while somehow still full of interest.
“Does this count as a therapy session?” I’m snide, once again, deflecting.
He shrugs. “I’m sure I can shift some things around. It happens a lot in cases of emergency.”
“I think it’s pretty obvious how I’m feeling.” I push off the bed and pace the room like I would if we were in his office.
“Spell it out for me.” I side-eye him. “Humor me, Flynn.”
I sigh. “Well, to no one’s surprise, I’m fucking angry.” He nods. “How could she lie to me? My whole family treated me like a fucking pariah growing up. I was always the problem child. Everything was my fault. I never fit in. And my mother had the answers all along.”
“How would things have been different for you if you knew the truth?”
“Everything would be different,” I scoff. “How could it not be?”
“You tell me.”
“Maybe I could’ve been diagnosed sooner and put on meds to balance me out or whatever. I’ve been sick of feeling uncomfortable in my own skin for years.” I may mask it well, but the truth under the surface is I relied on drugs and alcohol to make myself feel whole.
“That’s a possibility. Can I play devil’s advocate here for a minute?” I nod, but I hate this game. “Do you think things with your father would be any better if he had known the whole time?”
“I don’t know. We probably wouldn’t have been as close as we were as I was growing up.” Saying that out loud hurts, but not as much as the reality I’m facing now. “But…” I stop.
“What is it?”
“But if I wasn’t used to my dad treating me like I was his favorite, it wouldn’t suck so much now with his distance.”
“Have you tried talking to him?”
“Not since I left the house.” He nods and reaches for a pen as if to write something down. Once he realizes his mistake, a boyish smirk appears on his face as he shakes his head.
“Here’s what I propose.” I groan. “If you’re going to be staying with me, you need to get at least some of your things from the house.” I nod skeptically, afraid of where he’s going with this. “Get changed and head home to grab your things. While you’re there, try to talk to your dad. It can’t hurt.”
I roll my eyes and gather my things. When I realize I don’t have a car, Liam drives me to Carson’s place where I left it last night before I went out with Luke. My sister catches me before I can make a speedy exit—luckily Liam already sped away—and the little twerp runs down the front porch steps to greet me.
“Auntie Flynn! What are you doing here?”
“Came to pick up my car.”
“Is everything okay?” Carson asks as if it’s impossible for her to not be a mother for five minutes.
“I’m going home to try to talk to dad.”
“That’s good, Flynn. I’m sure things will be better now that he’s had a day to sit on it.”
I hope so.
“What’s wrong?” Ava asks, perceptive to the conversation we’re holding.
“Well, maybe you can help me.” My niece lights up as if I just told her Elsa and Poppy were coming to her birthday party.
Ironically, my niece and I are in similar situations, now that I think about it. She’s been raised by someone who isn’t her biological father her entire life. The difference, obviously, is both she and my brother-in-law have been aware of the arrangement from the beginning.
“What do you do when your dad is mad at you?”
“He doesn’t stay mad at me for very long. We end up putting a movie on and eating ice cream and staying up late.” She whispers the last part from behind her little hand. “But don’t tell Mom about that.”
I wink and offer my pinky to swear on it.
Hopping in my car, I drive away making one pit stop before facing my demons.
Sweat builds at my hairline as I stand outside my dad’s office. My heart couldn’t beat any harder unless it exploded in my chest. My palms are sweaty as I curl my hand into a fist and knock on the door.
“Go away, Alice. I’m not ready to talk yet.”
I push open the door, bracing for the worst. “Are you willing to talk to me?” I show him my peace offerings, a pint of rocky road ice cream and a DVD copy of the re-make of IT. My dad showed me the original as a kid and now it’s an ongoing joke between us.
The man I’ve looked up to my entire life pinches his eyes shut and runs an exasperated hand across his forehead. “Flynn. I didn’t realize you were home,” he says, eyes still closed.
I take another step into
