Page 18 of The Day After Christmas
Tristan: I’ll do it tonight. Don’t panic.
Felicity: You won’t. You’ll forget.
Tristan: I promise.
Felicity: Why can’t you just tell me now?
Tristan: Protocol, darling. What if he doesn’t want you stalking him?
Felicity: Forget it. I’ll find it myself.
Damn her stupid brother. Damn ever even making the effort to reach out to him in the first place. What had it even brought her except more aggravation?
Felicity bit her lip harder. Picked up her phone again but a quick Google search brought up nothing. She tried Facebook but there was no one that looked even vaguely like her father. There was nothing on Twitter, nothing on Instagram. Nothing on LinkedIn. How was that possible? The man was like a ghost. And then the reality bit. She had blown her one and only chance to talk to her dad after twenty-seven years. To maybe get some answers after all this time.
What if she never saw him again? And why was Tristan such a horse’s arse?
CHAPTER 11
Even later that night, when she and James were curled on the enormous squidgy sofa, both absolutely covered in cats, staring at an inane comedy show on Netflix, he spoke softly into her ear. A little shiver ran down her spine.
‘Tell me something,’ he said.
‘Anything,’ said Felicity.
‘Your dad… when did you last see him? Before today, I mean.’
Tears sprang to her eyes without warning. ‘The last time I saw him was when he walked out on us.’
‘What, when you were six? You’ve genuinely not seen him again since then? Not even at your mum’s funeral?’
‘Yup. And no.’
‘Wow,’ he whispered.
‘I know, and I handled it so badly,’ she said. ‘I was so shocked. I sent him away without even so much as offering him a coffee. I’m a terrible daughter, aren’t I? No, don’t answer that. I’m not sure I can ever forgive him for walking out on us like he did, but now I’ll never forgive myself either.’
The tears began rolling down her cheeks. Apparently, she’d opened up some kind of floodgate. It was all Andrea’s fault. Stupid Andrea. Trying to be nice to her and all.
‘Let’s not forget who the bad guy is here,’ said James, carefully. ‘You know, he abandoned your whole family. When you and your brother were tiny.’
‘How could I ever forget that?’ said Felicity, trying not to sound cross.
‘Just mentioning it in case you were somehow managing to feel guilty about someone else’s appalling behaviour.’
Felicity smiled through the tears. ‘Who me? Never.’
She picked up her phone.
Felicity: Any luck with that number?
Tristan… *tumbleweed*
She waited for a few minutes to see the ticks turn blue, then when they didn’t she threw it onto the sofa in disgust.
‘Bloody Tristan is bloody useless.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said James, his hand on hers, his gaze steady. ‘I wish I’d been there today.’
