“You already drank through one liver,” I grumble under my breath. “Do you really want to destroy a second?”
Dad hangs his head in shame. “Eden, honey… I’m so sorry. It’s been a rough couple of days. Months, really.”
“I’m going to call you a cab,” I tell him without missing a beat, reaching into my purse so I can pay the bartender. “I want you to go straight home, do you hear me? I’ll call you later to check on you.”
“Why don’t you just come with me?” There’s something hopeful in Dad’s eyes. “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”
“And who’s fault is that?” I mutter. It comes out much harsher than I mean it to, but I’m so upset and confused that policing my tone is the last thing on my mind.
“Come on, honey. It was just a slip up, I swear.”
“We’re not talking about this here.”
“What are you even doing at El Blanco? And why are you dressed so fancy?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. Should I tell him? How will Dad react if I tell him I’m here on a business lunch as Hunter’s personal assistant? There’s no telling what Dad’ll say in his current state.
“I’m working,” I say as diplomatically as I can.
“At the restaurant?”
“No, Dad.” I sigh. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
“No, I want to know what’s going—”
“I see some things never change.”
I turn quickly, stunned into silence by Hunter’s appearance. The air is suddenly thick and unbearable despite the restaurant’s air conditioning. Hunter and Dad lock eyes, a silent conversation passing between them.
Dad’s the first to break. “The fuck are you doing here?” he snaps. “I told you I’d kick your ass the next time you dared show your face.”
“You’re making a scene, Thomas. I think it’s time that you leave.”
“Don’t you dare lecture me after what you did!”
“How many times do I have to tell you that you’ve got it all wrong?”
My head spins. After what he did? What is he talking about?
I step between the two of them, grasping Dad firmly by the shoulders and turning him toward the door. It’s a hassle trying to shove him out of the restaurant, but with the way things are escalating, I wouldn’t be surprised if Dad was drunk and dumb enough to start throwing hands.
“That son of a bitch,” Dad grumbles when we get outside. I hail the first cab I see with a frantic wave over my head. I all but stuff Dad into the backseat and shout his address to the driver.
“Go home,” I tell him, thoroughly disappointed.
“Wait a second, were you and Hunter here togeth—”
I slam the door shut and smack the roof of the cab, sending him on his way.
My hands shake as my heart drums loudly in my chest. The thought of going back inside to a sea of stares and whispers leaves me paralyzed on the curb. My mind is a wash of anger and bitter disappointment.
If he’s been lying about being in San Francisco, what else has he been lying about?
Behind me, Hunter clears his throat. I don’t know when he followed me out or how long he’s been standing there. “Are you alright?” he asks.
“No,” I answer honestly. “Look, I normally never ask to take time off, but do you think I could go home early today?”
Hunter’s lips are a thin line. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Of course,” he answers eventually. “The meeting’s just about wrapped up, so you’re free to go.”