Tears prick at my eyes and I swipe them away impatiently.
My father has turned to face Lyle fully, now, not even looking at me. Some of his anger has faded, and there’s an odd expression of challenge on his face that I’ve never seen before. It’s like he’s sizing Lyle up to make sure he isn’t lacking.
“What if the two of you break up?” he asks.
“Then I will do my best to make sure the split is amicable so that we can continue having joint custody of our child,” Lyle says promptly. His reply is so quick that he must have thought of this before now. I feel myself blushing again. ‘Either way, I will continue to support both Amanda and the child for as long as I can, even if it the kid lives with their mother. I will want to be part of their lives, no matter what.”
The answer is absolutely perfect. I can tell that my father thinks so, too. He’s grumbling slightly, but he’s not angry anymore, just slightly frustrated. He doesn’t want to hear what Lyle has to say, but there’s no way to escape the sudden onslaught of feelings and emotions.
And then, slowly, everything washes away from his face, leaving him blank and tired. It’s been a long time since I last saw my father look like this. The last time was two years ago, when he read the article about the death of David Thompson and his face.
“I see,” he says softly. He eyes Lyle. “I came here expecting begging and sadness. I didn’t expect to find a business rival whose nerve matches my own.”
What? My father steps forward and holds out his hand. If I were Lyle, I would be petty enough to make him wait like that for a moment. But Lyle, thankfully, isn’t me. Instead of trying to get back at my father for the earlier transgression, he takes my father’s hand with a warm smile and gives it a shake, looking pleased.
I’m not really sure what’s going on. My father has respect for Lyle. On the other hand, Lyle has shown himself to be strong, unforgiving and focused, even more than I thought he was. It’s like I’ve stepped into some sort of alternate world where nothing makes any sense at all.
“So…what?” I ask, looking between the two men.
Lyle and my father look at each other. No actual decisions have been made about any of this. But at least my father doesn’t look so angry anymore. And Lyle is smiling, as though he’s won the lottery, so he must sense that things have gone well, too.
“I’ll think about it all,” my father finally says, releasing Lyle’s hand and stepping away. “I will return to you with my decision regarding the alliance and…other things with the next forty-eight hours.”
“Please take all the time you need,” Lyle says. “I know some decisions can be huge, and I think it would be better not to rush into them.”
My father nods and stretches his hand out for a handshake once more. I almost can’t believe it. How the hell has Lyle managed this?
Then my father glances at me.
“I’ll talk to you later,” he says.
He’s gone before I can say anything else, slipping out the door with far less attitude than when he came in. I blink at the suddenness of it, and at my father’s assumption that I was staying behind.
That tells me, more than anything, what he’s decided about Lyle and I.
“Well, that went well,” Lyle says cheerfully.
I stare at him. That’s the understatement of the century.
“Lyle…you’re a miracle worker,” I breathe. “I don’t know how you managed to pull that off. But I love you anyway.”
The words leave me without permission. But I don’t regret what I said. Maybe it’s a little soon considering we haven’t known each other for a very long time. But none of that matters.
I love him. And, going forward to the future, I can’t imagine being anywhere else other than at his side.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Amanda
The figure that Lyle cut as he faced down my father was incredibly powerful, as was the stern expression on his face and the look in his eyes that promised he wouldn’t be the one to back down first. I still can’t believe he said everything that he did, but I’m glad that he did, because I think he’s saved both our relationship and the alliance between the companies.
But, more importantly, right now, the vision of Lyle as he stood so straight and bold was very, very arousing.
“You’re absolutely amazing,” I say to him as he steps toward me, pulled in by my confession of love.
“Thank you,” Lyle says. It’s almost fascinating to see how humble he is now. “But it was you that made me strong enough to do it. If I wasn’t fighting for you, I might not have had the nerve to say half those thoughts. I love you, Amanda. I want to be with you. Everything else isn’t nearly as important.”
I want to say that it’s impossible. He owns an entire company. But I also faced, today, the realization that my obsession with work has come second place to my feelings for Lyle. If he feels the same way, then I can understand how this has happened.