Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
I nodded and stood. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Smithers.”
“Halton. Or Hal. Formality isn’t needed.” He reached out his hand, and I hesitated, then shook it.
“If I can help, you have my card.” He didn’t release my hand. “Don’t reject Richard so quickly, Ashley. You would miss out on knowing a good man.”
We left, my head swimming, an ache beginning to form behind my eyes.
In the car, Luc was quiet, leaving me to my thoughts. We pulled up to my place, and he turned in his seat. “Can I come in, love?”
“Of course.”
Inside, I headed to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. Despite the sunshine outside, I was feeling chilly and needed the warmth. Luc sat at the high counter separating the kitchen from the living space, watching me.
I slid a cup his way, and we sipped in silence, him sitting, me leaning against the counter.
He put down his cup. “You’re not usually so quiet, Ashley.”
“I have a lot in my head.”
“Want to share what you’re thinking?”
I rubbed my eyes. “I always wanted a father. I used to dream of it. I’d watch the other kids at school get picked up by their dads, and I used to be jealous. I hated when you got to bring your dad to school so he could talk to the class.” I lifted one shoulder. “My mom would come, but she was the only one. It always made me feel like even more of an outcast. I never told her because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings…” I trailed off.
“And now you’ve found your father.”
“I think at this point, I’d consider him a sperm donor, not my father.”
Luc blew out a long breath. “And that’s all he’ll ever be if you don’t give him a chance.”
I set down my coffee cup with a loud thump. “I understand you know him, Luc. That Halton knows him. You’re both on the Richard bandwagon. I’m not ready to jump on just yet. He deserted my mother. Ignored me. I can’t simply sweep that under the rug.”
“He says he didn’t know.”
“How convenient. My mother is dead, so no one else can refute him. Maybe he did know and is just trying to save face with all of you.”
“Maybe you need to stop painting him as the bad guy and give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Why?” I snapped. “Because you hero-worship him? Because, God forbid, the man you all think of as so great might actually have been heartless? I’m tired of you and everyone else listing his virtues.”
He shook his head. “I have never seen you this angry. You’re not listening or thinking beyond your emotions.”
I stood. “What did you say?”
“I know you’re upset, but you just admitted you always wanted a father. You found yours.” He shook his head. “Some of us will never have that—ever. And instead of trying to find something good in it, you’re angry and bitter.”
Tears filled my eyes. “I thought you’d understand.”
“I do, love, but I think you need to understand this isn’t all bad. You have a chance to be part of a family. Get to know Richard and his wife. Your siblings.”
“Half,” I corrected. “I’ll always be the outsider with them.”
He pushed away from the counter. “You are letting your anger talk. Stop being so negative. That isn’t how that family works. I’m telling you.”
“You’re taking his side. Their side. Over me.”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side!” He shook his head. “You’re not listening. You’re not ready.”
“I don’t know if I ever will be.”
“This isn’t the Ashley I know and love,” he murmured.
“Maybe I’m not who you thought I was,” I replied.
Our gazes locked, anger and confusion flowing between us.
“I think you should go. I need to be alone and think.”
He frowned and opened his mouth, then closed it.
“You know where I am,” he said simply.
I nodded, fighting back the tears.
He turned to walk away then looked back over his shoulder. “Think hard, love. Don’t throw away a chance of having something you have always wanted because you’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.”
He shook his head. “Oh, love, you’re lying to yourself now. You’re so afraid, you can’t see past it. You’re pushing me away.”
“You’re the one walking out the door,” I snapped.
“Ask me to stay. Promise me you’ll be honest with your feelings, and we’ll figure this out together.”
“I am being honest,” I replied, “You’re the one not listening.” I didn’t ask him to stay with me. I saw the look of hurt cross his face, and I had to glance away.
“Anger and honesty are two different things. When you’re ready, you know where I am. I’ll be here as fast as I can get to you.”
He paused then crossed the room, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck and pulling me close. He pressed his lips to my forehead, his touch lingering.