Page 91 of The Mistakes I've Made
She looked up at me, so unguarded and fragile. “Why doesn’t he want me?” she finally asked.
And I felt my heart break a thousand times over.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly, knowing I couldn’t sugarcoat this for her. The man I’d met just minutes earlier didn’t deserve it.
But the woman lying before me did.
She deserved everything and more.
“That woman,” she said, her voice filled with venom, “Becky, she’s my age. We went to school together. He promoted her just last month, made her the project leader for the major renovation property in Chicago. Guess she’s taking a little time off. I bet she’s the one who picked out those horrible sconces,” she said with a huff. “Figures. Can’t expect much for a girl who got a B-minus in Introductory Design.”
“Lani,” I whispered.
Another huff. “I know,” she said. “I’m being petty. But, I mean, do you blame me?”
“No, I just don’t think it’s Becky you’re truly mad at.”
Her lips quivered. “Mad? No,” she answered. “Creeped out a little, yes. But mostly, I’m just angry.”
“Why?” I asked, knowing we were getting somewhere.
“Because, all this time, I thought he was avoiding me because of my mom. Because it was just too hard, you know?”
I nodded.
“But now, I know he’s had Becky. He’s moved on. So, why?” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “Why am I still not good enough to be a part of his life, Taylor?”
“I don’t know,” I answered.
But I intended to find out.
It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep. Crying took a lot out of a person, and she’d wept a river over her father tonight.
Leaving her wasn’t easy, but this was something I needed to do.
Grabbing her phone out of her purse, I searched her Contacts, pulled up the asshole’s phone number, and sent the text.
Surprisingly, it didn’t take long to receive a reply; one that I quickly erased, but not before I saved his number in my own phone. It might come in handy the next time he decided to hurt his daughter like this.
Grabbing the key card off the table where I’d left it, I headed out, hoping I’d be back before she woke.
I didn’t want her to be alone.
I wasn’t the first to arrive at the bar, and seeing his reaction as I entered instead of his daughter, as my text had suggested, he didn’t seem nearly as surprised as I would have thought he’d be.
As I joined him at the bar, he didn’t bother introducing himself. “I figured it was you,” he said. “My daughter is stubborn, like her mother. She likes to ignore me for a month or two before extending another olive branch.”
“You act as if you know her so well.”
He flagged down the bartender, a casual gesture that made it appear like we were talking about sports or pop culture, not the fact that he’d all but abandoned his daughter for the last fourteen years.
“I know her well enough.”
My hands tightened into fists at my sides. “The woman who just cried herself to sleep in my arms would suggest otherwise.”
His eyes narrowed on me. “What are you to my daughter, Mr. Sutherland?”
I was taken aback. “You know my name?”
