Page 41 of The Bargain
One side of the street is lined with row houses that cost a pretty penny, while the opposite side, my father’s side, are equally pricey duplexes that mimic the look of single living homes. My parents were lucky and bought theirs so long ago now that not only is it paid off, they got it for nothing compared to the million and a half plus they go for in the present market. I wonder if my father has had to consider selling for cash flow, and the idea guts me. He needs stability. He needs his home. He needs success and happiness. I open the steel gate and enter the enclosed patio, only to have the security camera flicker to life with a bright light. By the time I’m at the door of the white brick structure, the door is open, and my father is standing in wait, his feet bare in a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt.
“What’s going on, Daughter? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Dad. Can’t a girl just need her father?” I wrap my arms around him and give him the biggest hug my body can muster and tilt my chin up to look at him. “Are you alone?”
“Of course, I’m alone.”
“That’s not a good answer. I don’t want you to be alone.”
He backs up and untangles my arms from the hug but snatches my hand and pulls me inside. “What’s going on?” he demands again.
What indeed, and the words are a jumbled mess in my mind. How do I tell my father I’m sleeping with the enemy?
Chapter Thirty
Sofia
I’mnottellinghimI’m sleeping with Ethan. That is not what a daughter does with her father. I’m telling him…I don’t know what, but I hope it’s brilliant and sensitive and everything he needs me to vocalize. Instead, we stand there in the foyer, and awkwardness ensues. I can’t just blurt this out. I need to work my way into it, but he’s all demand and demand some more. “I just, I need… I need to tell you something.”
“Shit. Did something go wrong with your deal?”
“No. No, it’s more complicated than that.”
“Okay, now you’re concerning me even more. What the heck is this, Sofia?”
“I’m nervous for the next phase of life for us both. And feeling a need to be close. Let’s go put on some coffee.”
He studies me long and hard, and finally says, “Hot chocolate. It’s getting too late for caffeine.” He motions me toward the kitchen, and I quickly step in front of him, walking down the hardwood path and passing the living room of brown leather still decorated with my mother’s touch. There are family photos on the walls, trinkets from our shared lives here and there, and beautiful artwork she adored. The kitchen is a connected open concept with a giant island of warm tones we have always favored over the formal dining area in another room. A few minutes later, we’re at the kitchen table, my favorite orange ceramic mugs in front of us, and my father unloads a can of whipped cream on my cup before offering me a spoon. “I know how you like hot cocoa with your whipped cream.”
I laugh and accept the spoon. “That is true. Hot cocoa is very good with a can of whipped cream.”
He chuckles. “You got that from your mother.”
“I did. She loved her whipped cream with a little coffee.”
“She did.” He dips his chin and studies me. “Talk to me,” he commands, sipping from his cup.
I scoop some whipped cream and will the butterflies in my belly to settle. “Ethan Dalton.”
“The dick who turned me down. Yeah. What about him?”
“I looked him up after you bitched about him.”
“Okay. What about him?”
“He was in Hawaii. You know that already, but the ‘why’ of the equation is what matters right now. Dad, he sits on the board for Moore’s. He’s actually a huge stockholder.”
“Holy hell.” He scrubs his jaw. “Does he know you’re my daughter?”
“So, that’s the thing. Something happened when I was in Hawaii.”
“What does that mean?” He shoves his cup aside.
“We made eye contact across a bar, and I thought,he knows who I am. And of course, I also thought,that asshole. Then later, I’m in the restaurant alone, and he comes up and starts talking to me. I don’t know why, but he thought my name was Zoey.”
“Oh no. And now that’s coming back to haunt you.” It’s not a question but rather an assumption.
“Yes and no. We kind of connected, Dad. Okay, not kind of. Wereallyconnected, but I felt guilty because of what he did to you, so I ran out on him.”
