Page 111 of The Merger
“Oh, it does,” Aurora says, as we open our menus together. “I’m thinking maybe the shrimp, though. What about you, Carys?”
“Um, I’m not sure. The chicken sounds good.”
“Don’t get chicken at a steakhouse,” Gabe says. “Get the steak. I’m buying.”
“It’s not that,” I say, laughing nervously.
“Leave her alone, Gabe. She’s going to do what she wants to do. She’s just like her mother.”
My gaze raises slowly over the menu until it smacks into my father’s. His eyes are cold, daring me to talk back.
The last time I saw him, he barely acknowledged my presence. This time, he’s going out of his way to be a dick. He’s been in and out of my life for twenty-seven years. Whenever he pops back up, I give him the benefit of the doubt.
Why do I do that? Do I think I need him to love me so I’m lovable? Do I need his approval so I can feel worthy for other men?
What kind of fucked-up bullshit is that?
No more. I’m not doing it anymore.
I lay my menu down and fold my hands on the table. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Kent,” Aurora hisses.
“Gabe, did you tell Kent about your upcoming deep-sea fishing trip?” Rochelle asks too loudly. “I got it for him for Christmas last year, but the thought of going out in the water like that terrifies me. I’ll be in the hotel with a book.”
“I’m sorry, Carys,” Aurora whispers. “He’s been drinking.”
“Don’t blame it on my drinking,” Dad says, staring holes through me. “What do you want? Why do you keep coming around?”
And there it is. The admission of his disdain for me.
Damn.
I’ve always known this was the case, but to hear him admit it is a different kind of feeling. It’s salt into a seeping wound that I’ve carried for years. Sadly, it’s also vindication that I was right.
“Kent, cut it out,” Aurora says, louder this time.
Tears cloud my vision, and a lump the size of Texas clogs my throat. The sting of his words lingers, yet at the same time, having it all out on the table is a relief.
“Why do you keep coming around?”
That says all I needed to hear.
“You walk around with a fakeness you learned from your goddamn mother,” Dad says, glaring at me. “Always pretending like you give a fuck. But let’s be honest, you don’t give a shit about me. You’re just sticking around to see what you can get from the old man when I croak. But you’re wasting your time. There won’t be a dime for you.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, my brows hitting the ceiling.
“Just admit it and be done with it. It’s time to tell the truth,” he says.
I laugh in disbelief. “Yeah. Okay.” I nod. “Let’s tell the truth.” I lean forward, lasering my focus on him. “The truth is that I’ve never asked you for a damn thing. Not one dime. I’ve never said a word to you about missing every game I’ve ever played, every birthday, and every holiday.”
Aurora sits back in her seat, mouth agape.
“I might have taken your shit up until now, but it’s over,” I say, pushing my chair back.
“Oh, you’ll be back,” he says, sneering. “You always come back.”
