Page 30 of Daddy's Dirty Little Secret

The parking garage was quiet, not very many cars left. I passed by a few sedans on my way toward where David parked normally. He had his hat down over his eyes, likely dozing lightly while he waited. But something else caught my eye across the garage.

Amelia’s car sat there, not running, lights off. She told me she was going to have dinner with her father, so I didn’t understand why her car was still here. I stopped for a second, wondering if I should be nosy and snoop around or just go home and blow it off. A million things could’ve happened. She could’ve gotten a flat tire, a dead battery. Laurence could’ve picked her up or maybe she got a ride home with—Godwin.

The thought made a new surge of anger flood me, propelling me—against my better judgment—toward the car. Every step that took me closer made my blood boil hotter. I fully expected to see her car empty, and a million accusations flew through my mind. I specifically asked her not to sleep with other men if we were going to keep doing this and while her car being here might’ve meant she got a ride home, it didn’t immediately mean she was disregarding my request. But tell that to my irrational thoughts and the defense mechanism I’d had since Mom walked out on Dad.

The way I stomped up to the car, I was shocked Amelia didn’t throw her door open and run away. I probably looked like a rabid dog about to attack. But when I strolled up and saw her head down, realized she hadn’t seen me approaching, and that she was, in fact, in the car, something inside me softened instantly. She was crying, hands cupping her face.

Any thought of anger vanished as I tapped on the glass. My insides felt like lead, my heart a stone. I was a fool for letting my insecurities run away with my thoughts, but if Godwin Tharmor was the reason she was crying, I was going to have a word with him. A very loud word.

Instead of rolling down her window, Amelia opened the door. She sat there swiping at her eyes, forcing a smile to her face as she turned and set her feet on the ground. Her heels were off, stockinged feet seeming smaller than I remembered. Her entire frame seemed smaller now, like she was shrinking in on herself.

“Hey,” she chirped in a less-than-happy tone.

“Amelia, are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, but more tears sprang to her eyes. I wanted with everything in me to pull her into my arms. I knew it was what Laurence would do, but Amelia and I didn’t have that sort of relationship really. I wanted to, but we didn’t.

“You’re not fine. You’re crying. What’s wrong?” I wished I had a handkerchief to give her. My father would’ve had one. Any grown man worth his weight in marbles would’ve had some way of helping her. But I stood there with clenched fists and a scowl I was unable to shake.

Her shoulders drooped and her head dropped. “I had an argument…I’m fine. Really.”

She said she was fine, but her body language screamed that she wasn’t. Nothing about this seemed fine—not her tears, not her posture, not my inability to even function. This was why I was incapable of having a real relationship. When things like this happened, I stood staring, gawking the way my father did at me when I was a child and I skinned my knee.

The only thing I knew to do was the thing that I knew helped me. When she was stressed out, she sent me a text—albeit fewer times than I had texted her for a hookup, but she had. However, it felt cold, callous even, to offer her a quickie for stress relief in the face of so much deep emotion.

Amelia wiped tears off her face again and looked up at me. “I uh…”

“Came here to M-4-S?” I said carefully, unsure if that was what she wanted. She had been somewhere and argued, or maybe she argued here. Either way she was missing dinner with her father, and I hoped Godwin Tharmor was to blame for her mood.

She licked her lips and sighed, then looked thoughtfully up at me. “Yeah, I think so. I think that will help.”

“My place?” I said, feeling a surge of hope shift my entire mood.

“Should I follow?” she asked.

“Ride with me…” I waited, holding out my hand to her. She turned and grabbed her shoes and purse, then locked her car and took my hand. Now we were getting somewhere. And I was going to get her to tell me exactly what Tharmor had done to hurt her, and then I was going to make sure he never did that again.

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