Page 102 of Don't Call Me Daddy
He opens the door to Restaurant and ushers me inside to a booth tucked in the back. My mouth waters as soon as the delicious aroma of food hits me, and suddenly, I’m grateful for his persistence. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. I guess all that walking worked up an appetite.
For a moment, my nerves calm down, and when the server brings out our drinks and an appetizer of fried pickles—which I swore I didn’t want, but Leo insisted we get becausehewanted them—I feel much better.
“So, tell me, what’s left on the list?” he says, popping a pickle slice into his mouth.
The man never used to eat fried food when I met him, and now, he’s drinking a beer in the middle of the day, eating fried pickles, and even added bacon to his cheeseburger. And the crazy thing about it is, he seems so much healthier now, despite indulging in normal people food from time to time. He’s got this healthy glow about him, and he hasn’t needed his antacids inweeks. He doesn’t fight me in the morning about drinking water and eating before he has his coffee … and he’s smiling at me.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was abducted when I wasn’t looking and replaced with an alien look-alike, but seeing him in his sex room is all the proof that I need. He is, in fact, my same Leo … only lighter.
He’s so happy, and the thought of leaving him after all this is over, of him losing this side of himself and getting his family’s hopes up … that’s the part that really kills me.
I thought I was helping him, but I’m afraid that when it’s all said and done, he’ll be worse than I found him, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to live with that.
I shiver and fold my napkin in my lap to cover my bare thighs.
“Are you cold?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, just moves to my side of the booth and wraps an arm around me, tucking me into his warmth.
“Better?”
I nod. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that. I always get cold after I eat.”
He slides a palm over my thigh and squeezes. “I’ll take any excuse I can get to touch you.”
I smile, but it falls flat.
“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting off all morning. Are you worried about the festival? Because I think you’ve thought of everything. I was going to tell you this later, but I really think you should lean into this kind of stuff—planning parties, events, festivals. I think you’ve got a knack for creating a bigger vision than most people can see, and you’re executing it incredibly. Seriously, I’m rarely surprised by people, but you’ve surprised the fuck out of me. In a good way.”
“Thank you.”
His compliment piles on an extra layer of guilt, and my lip begins to quiver as I try to hold it all in.
He tilts my chin up, examining my face. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to upset you. I know you’ve worked really hard on this. I was just trying to tell you how impressed I am. I guesssurprisedwasn’t the best word choice. Of course, I knew you were capable of doing this—you’re so smart and hardworking …” I look away as his voice trails off.
“It’s not that. I just …” A traitorous tear falls from my eye, and I try to wipe it away before he sees.
“Hey, what’s going on? What’s got you so worried, baby girl?”
His words are like a punch to the gut, reminding me of how badly he’s going to be hurting after I leave, how we both are.
I shake my head. “It’s nothing. I’m just stressed, I guess.”
“It’s not nothing. You’re upset. You’re never upset. Tell me so I can make it better.” He stares at me with those forest eyes that swallow me up, so open and vulnerable, so trusting …
“I … I just don’t want you to hate me … when this is all over.” I wipe my eyes with the scratchy, unabsorbent napkin, probably making my face redder than it was before.
He cranes his neck, searching for my eyes. “Where is this coming from? I could never hate you. How could you even think that?”
“Not right now.” I suck in a sob and wipe my eyes. “But you will—after this is over and I leave.”
He grows quiet, and when I look back at him, he’s wearing a pained expression, his eyebrows fallen and his mouth pressed into a tight line.
“Ivy, baby, look at me.” His voice is commanding, and I look up at him automatically.
He traces a thumb over my lips and wipes a tear from my cheek. “I’m not going to pretend for one minute that it won’t hurt to tell you goodbye. Jesus, I’m already prepared to have myheart knocked right out of my chest … but, baby girl, you aren’t responsible for anyone’s happiness—not even mine—so please stop carrying that burden on your shoulders. I’m a grown man. I knew what I was getting myself into, and I made a choice.
“Just because it’s going to hurt doesn’t mean you need to feel guilty for putting your life first.”
He tugs at the end of my braid, making me smile. “You are so young; you have your whole life ahead of you.” He taps the pocket of my overalls, knowing exactly what’s underneath. What I always keep tucked away right beside my heart. “You’ve got big plans to move to Romania, you’ve got your sister’s list to guide you, and you have your whole life to figure out what you want to do next. If you think I could ever live with myself for preventing you from doing any of that, then that’s where you’re wrong.”
