Chapter Twenty-Seven
Susan checked her reflection for the fiftieth time in the last few seconds. She’d fought the impulse to dress like she did while working for her father, left the suit and skirt hanging in the closet she shared with Andrew, and opted for nice jeans and a T-shirt instead. The goal was to walk the line between being respectful and not bowing to her father’s whims before she walked through the restaurant door.
She steeled herself and headed into Kandace’s living room. The woman was a saint for letting them crash at her house, but Andrew would close on his soon. They’d only been back from their road trip a couple of days, so Susan hadn’t imposed for too long. Lucas and Andrew were playing a card game. She loved that they were warming up to each other, and the way it made Andrew smile.
She watched for a few moments, letting the normalcy of the scene chase away her apprehension. When the nervous twitching moved back in, she straightened. “We should get going.” They didn’t have to be there for an hour, but she didn’t want to be late. That, and there was no way she could sit still anymore.
Andrew didn’t question it. He took her hand as they walked to her car. He’ offered to drive, and she said yes, but the car was symbolic to her. Her father probably wouldn’t see it, but she liked what it meant—that she didn’t owe him anything.
As they headed up the canyon, her stomach tied itself into more and more knots, while she replayed snippets of her last conversation with the man—the things he said, how close she came to giving up her dream. Bile rose in her throat, carried on memories of him sabotaging the job she wanted. One she earned.
They walked into the restaurant, and though they were twenty minutes early, her father already waited at a table. He scowled when he saw Andrew.
Susan was more grateful than she thought possible for the reassuring arm Andrew wrapped around her waist as they approached the table. “Dad.” She didn’t bother to fake a smile. “You already know my boyfriend.” She liked the way that tasted, rolling off her tongue.
Her father gestured to the chairs across from him. “When you said, we’ll be there, I thought you meant yourself and Melissa.”
“If you want to break bread with Mercy, I won’t be your buffer zone.” She sat when Andrew held out her chair, then he took the spot next to her. “We can’t stay long, but it looks like you weren’t waiting for us anyway.” She hid her wince at the passive-aggressive comment. If she was going to do this, she had to be direct. Part of her wished Andrew would step in. Take control of the conversation, rather than offer his support through a string of subtle touches and hand squeezes. She was grateful he kept quiet, though. If he spoke up, she wouldn’t find the resolution she needed.
“How have you been?” Dad asked.
“Fine. I start teaching next week.” It felt good to say that.
“May I ask where?”
“No.”
A flicker of surprise crossed her father’s face, before returning to normal. He cleared his throat. “I’ll cut to the point and hope that alleviates some of this unneeded tension. The last time we spoke, a lot of things came out that shouldn’t have.”
She didn’t like his phrasing. He left his comments open to misinterpretation. She’d let slide the implication that he was sorry he got caught, not that he felt that way to begin with. She’d prefer that they find some kind of tentative middle ground and work from there’. He was her dad, and she loved him despite everything. “I’m listening.”
“I missed having you there for Christmas, and so did your brothers and sister.”
That explained the Christmas afternoon message, but not the several-day lag till he emailed her. There was no reason to call him on the lie about her siblings.
“Funny, how it wasn’t hard to find her when you put some effort into it,” Andrew said.
She struggled to hide her grateful smile, especially when Dad scowled.
Andrew shrugged.
Her dad kept his attention on her. “I want you there for future holidays. What will it take, to make amends? I haven’t stopped your school payments yet. I have your car when you’re ready to take it back. Your phone needs an upgrade, though. We’ll get you a new one.”
“An apology would be a nice start.” She swallowed her resentment at the realization he thought he could buy resolution. Bribe her to forget.
“I’m sorry you’re not in our lives.”
She gritted her teeth. “An apology for the cruel things you said.”
“You mean the truth? Honesty isn’t always pretty, hon. You’re young, and you’re rebelling. In five years or two, you’ll thank me for saving you from the stupidity of youth.”
*
Andrew growled at the string of thinly veiled insults and condescension. It took more restraint than he thought he had not to leap into the conversation.
Susan said, “You’re right. I will.”
Andrew clenched his jaw until it throbbed.