Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“What’s going on, Daughter? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Dad. Can’t a girl just need her father?” I wrap my arms around him and give him the biggest hug my body can muster and tilt my chin up to look at him. “Are you alone?”
“Of course, I’m alone.”
“That’s not a good answer. I don’t want you to be alone.”
He backs up and untangles my arms from the hug but snatches my hand and pulls me inside. “What’s going on?” he demands again.
What indeed, and the words are a jumbled mess in my mind. How do I tell my father I’m sleeping with the enemy?
Chapter Thirty
Sofia
I’m not telling him I’m sleeping with Ethan. That is not what a daughter does with her father. I’m telling him…I don’t know what, but I hope it’s brilliant and sensitive and everything he needs me to vocalize. Instead, we stand there in the foyer, and awkwardness ensues. I can’t just blurt this out. I need to work my way into it, but he’s all demand and demand some more. “I just, I need… I need to tell you something.”
“Shit. Did something go wrong with your deal?”
“No. No, it’s more complicated than that.”
“Okay, now you’re concerning me even more. What the heck is this, Sofia?”
“I’m nervous for the next phase of life for us both. And feeling a need to be close. Let’s go put on some coffee.”
He studies me long and hard, and finally says, “Hot chocolate. It’s getting too late for caffeine.” He motions me toward the kitchen, and I quickly step in front of him, walking down the hardwood path and passing the living room of brown leather still decorated with my mother’s touch. There are family photos on the walls, trinkets from our shared lives here and there, and beautiful artwork she adored. The kitchen is a connected open concept with a giant island of warm tones we have always favored over the formal dining area in another room. A few minutes later, we’re at the kitchen table, my favorite orange ceramic mugs in front of us, and my father unloads a can of whipped cream on my cup before offering me a spoon. “I know how you like hot cocoa with your whipped cream.”
I laugh and accept the spoon. “That is true. Hot cocoa is very good with a can of whipped cream.”
He chuckles. “You got that from your mother.”
“I did. She loved her whipped cream with a little coffee.”
“She did.” He dips his chin and studies me. “Talk to me,” he commands, sipping from his cup.
I scoop some whipped cream and will the butterflies in my belly to settle. “Ethan Dalton.”
“The dick who turned me down. Yeah. What about him?”
“I looked him up after you bitched about him.”
“Okay. What about him?”
“He was in Hawaii. You know that already, but the ‘why’ of the equation is what matters right now. Dad, he sits on the board for Moore’s. He’s actually a huge stockholder.”
“Holy hell.” He scrubs his jaw. “Does he know you’re my daughter?”
“So, that’s the thing. Something happened when I was in Hawaii.”
“What does that mean?” He shoves his cup aside.
“We made eye contact across a bar, and I thought, he knows who I am. And of course, I also thought, that asshole. Then later, I’m in the restaurant alone, and he comes up and starts talking to me. I don’t know why, but he thought my name was Zoey.”
“Oh no. And now that’s coming back to haunt you.” It’s not a question but rather an assumption.
“Yes and no. We kind of connected, Dad. Okay, not kind of. We really connected, but I felt guilty because of what he did to you, so I ran out on him.”
“You slept with him.” His tone is flat and hard.
Blood swooshes in my ears. “Let’s just leave it at I ran out on him. Then I get to New York City, and he’s heading the team I’m presenting to, and he clearly knows I’m not Zoey.”
“And he dumped you and your brand.”
“No. That’s the thing. He said he loved my designs, and he really was the reason this all happened for me. He believes in me and my brand. And we still had that connection. It’s strong and hard to ignore. And I was worried about that influencing him helping me. I wanted to earn my shot myself, but he swears my skill is my skill. My career is my career. Unrelated to me and him. Which seems true, considering the entire board had to vote yes for me, and—because I ran out on him again, and he followed me here.”
“He—what?”
“He’s here. I ran again. He came after me. And him being here could hurt him. It’s a conflict of interest. And all of this feels really confusing after what happened between you two.”
His lips press together, and he sips his cocoa without looking at me.