Page 76 of Sawyer

My hands start to sweat. My heart races. I feel a little sick.

Stepping out of the shadows, I climb off the stage and hurry over to Bruce, who’s sitting front row center, watching the show. Behind me, Heathcliff, Ellen, Hareton, and Cathy continue their scene.

“What?” asks Bruce, annoyed to be bothered, still staring at the stage. “What is it?”

I whisper close to his ear. “My father’s here. He just walked into the theater. He’s sitting in the back row.”

“Did you invite him to the dress rehearsal?”

“No. I have to talk to him.”

“Good thing you’re already dead. You have…um…four scenes before the finale.” Bruce gives me a look. “Make it snappy.”

I walk down the aisle to where my father’s sitting. As I approach, he stands up, taking his hat off the seat next to him, and walks out of the theater, into the lobby.

With no other option, I follow him.

In the tiny lobby of the Fraternal Order of Eagles building, we face each other, me in a costume, a nightgown meant to look like it’s from the 1840s, and my father dressed like a banker who’s come to repossess someone’s life.Mylife.

“Father.”

“Ivy.”

There are no hugs or kisses hello, no polite inquiries about health or happiness.

I gulp nervously. “What, um…I mean, why are you here?”

“I needed to speak with you, and since you’re ignoring my texts and calls, you left me no other option than to come here in person. Very inconvenient, too.”

My father is very tall and very handsome, like an older, more patrician, and less friendly Michael Fassbender. He oozes money and power. He’s intimidating.

“Sorry,” I murmur. But when I hear the word leave my lips, I hate myself for saying it. I have nothing to be sorry for. “Wait. No.Notsorry. I’m not.”

He stares at me. “Stop babbling.”

“Okay.”

Damn it. I did it again.I’m about to tell him Iwasn’tbabbling when—

“I need you to reconsider Clark Rupert.”

“Reconsider…”

“Your engagement to him.”

This time, I don’t apologize, and I don’t babble.

“Out of the question,” I say clearly and concisely. “There is no scenario in which I marry Clark.”

“You’re behaving like a child,” he says. I lift my chin. He tightens his jaw and continues. “Rupert senior, the goddamned lieutenant governor, could push through some—”

“—legislation that you want?”

He looks surprised that I know. “Yes.”

“I don’t care. I’m not marrying Clark.”

His eyes narrow. “You…don’t care?You don’t care about your family’s business? About the future of Caswell Coal? About our legacy?Yourlegacy!”

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