Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Ah,” I said. “Hopefully I’ll catch her next time.”
As much as I would have liked to see my nine-year-old half-sister, I was kind of happy to have my father all to myself tonight. Siobhan was so talkative that no one would have gotten a word in edgewise.
“Your father is in the living room,” Kayla said.
We followed her through the foyer into the house. Dad had been looking out a window and turned when he heard us enter.
He opened his arms. “There’s my beautiful daughter.”
“Hey, Dad.”
As we embraced, I could feel how thin he’d become. His head was bald, but I knew that was because he’d proactively shaved it. But it was still shocking to see.
His eyes moved to my right. “Who’s the guy?”
Declan extended his hand. “Hey, Dr. Corrigan. I’m Declan, Molly’s roommate.”
My father nodded in recognition. “Oh...this is the funny guy you told me about.”
Declan’s eyes widened.
“Shh…” I smiled. “Declan can’t know I talk nice about him.”
“I’m glad he could join us.”
“Me, too, Dr. Corrigan.”
“Please call me Robert, Declan. Can I offer you something to drink?”
“That’d be great.”
We followed Dad into the dining room. The room was adorned with gorgeous crown molding. The old-school architecture of my father’s house was striking. He opened the liquor cabinet, which was a built-in hutch in the corner.
“I’ve got almost anything to suit your fancy. What do you like?”
“A scotch will be great,” Declan said.
“Coming right up.” He turned to me. “And my Molly? What does she want?”
“I’ll just have a white wine.”
He hollered into the kitchen. “Kayla, can you pour Molly some of the white you opened last night?”
“Of course,” I heard her say.
Over a dinner of pasta carbonara that was surprisingly good, considering it was made by a juvenile, my father told stories from my childhood while Declan seemed to enjoy every minute. Kayla just nodded most of the time, which was fine by me. I didn’t want to have to pretend to be enjoying a conversation with her. With my dad, on the other hand, as much as we’d had our troubles, I genuinely enjoyed his company. I’d missed him.
Kayla got up to do the dishes. Declan and I offered to help, but she insisted we stay and talk to my father. With just the three of us in the room again, the tone of the entire evening changed, as if someone had flipped a switch.
“Why did you really come along, Declan?” my father asked. “Is it because my daughter didn’t want to face me alone?”
The room went silent for a few seconds.
My roomie, who never lacked for something to say, looked at me before stumbling over his words. “No, I…”
“Yes,” I interrupted. “I needed his support. I was nervous for so many reasons—scared mainly, because I didn’t want to see you sick. I have a lot of regrets about our relationship, but in the end, you’re still my daddy. I was just afraid, afraid to be afraid.”
“I know,” my father said. After a few moments of silence, he turned to Declan. “Thank you for accompanying her.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“How did you two come to live together?”
Declan grinned mischievously. “She couldn’t resist my charms.”
“Well, that’s not exactly the story,” I said.
“Actually, I got in by default. Everyone else was so godawful, she had no choice but to give in—that and I made her cupcakes.”
“Very resourceful idea.” My father laughed. “How bad could a guy who makes cupcakes be?”
“That was exactly my thinking, Robert.”
“How is my daughter to live with?”
Declan glanced over at me and smiled. “She’s fun, which you wouldn’t immediately know from her rigid organization and rules.”
My father turned to me. “Rigid, huh?”
“She likes everything very neat and organized,” Declan clarified. “But there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s who she is.”
My father’s gaze permeated mine. “That’s not who she always was. When I lived with Molly, I remember her being quite messy and carefree.” He paused. “After I left home, my ex-wife would tell me Molly had become a bit obsessed with neatness and having everything in order.” He looked down at his plate and sighed. “And all I could think was...that’s not Molly at all.” Dad shook his head. “I wondered if her becoming that way had something to do with my leaving.”
I didn’t know what to say. That hadn’t occurred to me, but then I’d never analyzed my behavior.
My father continued, looking straight at me. “My therapist thinks we do certain things to create a sense of order or stability in our life, because those are things we can control. When I left, I turned your entire life upside down.”
I was surprised to learn my father knew about my quirks, but apparently my mother had let him in on more than I realized. I was also surprised to hear he saw a therapist.
“You see a shrink?”
“Yes. I have for some time now. I have a lot of regrets, Molly—about how I handled things with your mother and you girls. And I’m sorry.”