Page 422 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

The one thing for which I wasnotprepared was what he said next.

“I’m sorry, Elijah.”

It was the most pure moment of disbelief I’d ever had. I went dead silent and felt as if I were in a movie, at one of those moments when the camera goes to a fish-eye lens and the background recedes and shrinks away behind an actor, one of those moments when the character questions or feels detached from his whole reality.

My father—telling me he was sorry? What world was I in?

“Uh…excuse me?” I reacted.

Dad paused and gulped, and then he said, “I apologize, son.”

“Sorry…” I muttered.

“That’s all I’m going to say,” he continued, sounding at least a little bit more like the Dad that I knew, “because I’m frankly not very good at these things. We’ve been so far apart about practically everything, it’s as if we’ve never lived in the same world. But, I think what you and I most have in common, Elijah, is that we’re both very proud men. We don’t apologize easily. So, I’m just going to tell you, plainly, that I’m sorry.”

Even if he didn’t want to say it, I knew exactly what my father was sorry for, every last damn bit of it. And seeing him standing in front of me, being big enough to apologize, made me sorry for everything that had ever come between us; sorry that I always went to anger with him first. Sorry that I never tried harder.

I was just able to find the voice to say, “Thank you, Dad.”

He stood up again, preparing to leave, and suddenly I found I didn’t want this moment to end. I wanted to live in it for a while longer; it was something so rare, so special, something that I never expected to have.

“Leaving already?” I asked. “I could order us something. We could…”

Dad raised a hand to stop me. “No, no, no. I shouldn’t even have bothered you while you’re at work. I just thought this was important.”

“You’re not bothering me,” I said, forcing my voice not to crack.

I saw a wistful little smile on his face, a sort of smile that I’d never seen him wear before. He headed back for the door, and just as he got his hand on the handle, he faced me one more time.

That was when my father said, “Iamproud of you.”

And without another word, he let himself out.

I sat behind my desk in my quiet office, hearing those words echo, if not actually in the room, then in my head.I’m sorry. I’m sorry…

My eyes were actually getting wet. I put a hand to my mouth and continued sitting there, forgetting about the work that my father hadn’t wanted to interrupt. What had just happened was more important than any work, any piece of business, could ever be.

__________

The whole thing with Dad had definitely not spoiled either my mood or my day. But, it had put a whole different spin on everything. I still felt good, but it was a profound kind of good. One that came from my whole world having suddenly shifted in a way that I liked.

What relationship would Dad and I have from this day forward? Would we continue being able to talk the way a real father and son should talk to each other? Would we now be able to tell each other things, important things, about ourselves that we’d never been able to say before?I hoped so. I hoped this would be the beginning of Dad and me really being able to know who each other was. It really was like turning a new page in my life, and I liked it.

I took that feeling out of the office with me, wearing a contented smile. Barbara, arranging things on her desk for the next morning, looked up at me and said, flatly, “You went to lunch with Corinne.”

That stopped me in my tracks. I wasn’t angry. I was feeling too good about everything — both Corinne and Dad — to be upset.

Laughing, I said, “You’re really nosy, aren’t you?”

“I’m looking out for you,” she replied.

“Just like you always do,” I said. “I appreciate that. Always have.”

“Are you back together?”

Into my mind flashed the “long lunch” that Corinne and I had in my living room two days ago, but I wasn’t about to tell even my trustworthy and doting secretary any of the details ofthat.

Instead, I just walked away, saying to her, “You’ll have to ask Corinne.”

---