Page 118 of Chemistry: The Chemist

“With a straight face, you’re demanding I tell you my personal business?” I chuckled.

He shrugged. “I guess you could put it that way.”

“Business is good as usual, so there’s no other way to put it. This is personal. You could’ve called me on the phone to ask who I’m fucking, Pops.”

“That wouldn’t have been very polite and I’m aware of who she is. My question is what and how much does she mean to you?”

I paused, taking a second to expand my mental and emotional capacity. Eden forced me to see beyond myself and my limitations. She pushed me to be better, do better, and think better.

“Everything,” I admitted, relieved. That simple word alleviated so much for me simultaneously. I released the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Soothed by the idea of Eden, a smile lifted my cheeks and guided my head backward and forward, repeatedly.

Satisfied? A voice asked.

Very. I responded.

Quietly, my father took a sip of his drink. He gazed in my direction with worry lines creasing his face. He took another sip and then a third one, finishing it off. Veronica scurried over, but he dismissed her with a hand in the air. She fell back, blending with the fixtures of the home so effortlessly.

“Then what I have to tell you doesn’t matter, do it?”

“It doesn’t,” I admitted. “I’m all in.”

“Well, I assume this is who you’ve chosen to carry on our legacy.”

“Yes. She is.”

“Good. Good. Will there be a wedding soon?”

“Will you live to see it?” I asked with empty lungs.

I couldn’t pull in a single particle of air until he responded. The possibility of him never seeing me walk down the aisle was crippling. Months ago, the chances of me wedding were extremely slim to none. Now that I knew without a doubt I’d be walking Eden down an aisle after reciting vows, his absence was unacceptable. Richie and I had so much history. He was everything I could’ve dreamt of in a father.

And when our loneliness grew to be too much to bear, he sought companionship, doubling the love he had for me. Rhea was the quiet to his storm. Though she was a woman of few words, her presence spoke for itself. She gave us seven girls that would go to the end of the earth for us and vice versa.

“Should I lie to appease you? Pacify your feelings? Or should I ruin your day with the truth?”

“They need to know.” I referred to my sisters.

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighed, sitting back and lifting his glass.

Drinking away his sorrows wouldn’t make the situation any better, but it would bandage the ache for a bit.

“When will you tell them?”

“Next month.”

“Next month is no good, Richie,” sternly, I denied.

“Why not?”

“There are four birthdays within the next sixty days. Don’t be the thief of joy. Let them enjoy themselves.”

If he was going to break their hearts, at least he was to be considerate.

“In two months, I won’t have to tell them. They’ll see it for themselves. I can hardly keep a meal down. My appetite doesn’t exist. I’ll be as thin as that damn stick over there in two months.”

A hard cough rumbled his body.

“If we have to feed you through a fucking tube, then so be it. But, you will not break those girls’ hearts on my watch. Not anytime soon, at least. So, get your shit together, Richie. The defeat in your tone, it’s unfamiliar and very fuc—very offensive. The man who taught me defeat was never an option–” I scoffed, straightening the wrinkles in the jacket of my suit.

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