“We didn’t get time to talk and I’m sure you guys have tons of questions about Dad,” Clara says. “I would too.”
I look at Lexi and just by her look, I know that she’s for it.
“We’d love to,” we both say at the same time.
We agree to meet on a Wednesday for lunch and when we say goodbye, the four of us hug and it doesn’t feel weird.
“How do you feel, ladies?” Ace asks from the front passenger seat.
“It went better than I expected,” Lexi says. “Plus, I enjoyed meeting our half-sisters.”
“Me too,” I say. “I can’t wait to see them again next week.”
Instead of going straight home, the four of us go for a drink at The Alms cocktail bar. Logan holds my hand under the table which makes me feel like a teenage girl in love for the first time.
“I take back what I said,” Lexi tells me when we’re in the bathroom. “You guys make a beautiful couple. Heck, you even finish each other’s sentences.”
I laugh. “We’re just having fun. Nothing too heavy.”
She contemplates me. “And yet he asked you to go home with him to meet his family. That sounds heavy to me.”
“I haven’t given him an answer yet.” Who was I kidding, of course, I was going to say yes.
Logan is taking Emma to visit her grandparents and to meet the rest of the family. He asked me and Ivy to go with him and I’d said I would think about it for precisely the same reasons that Lexi cited. It feels too serious too suddenly and there’s a lot going on in my life right now.
***
“Are you as excited as I am?” Lexi says as we walk downtown to the restaurant that we agreed on with our half-sisters.
“A little,” I tell her.
I’ve had a lot of time to think about this situation with our dad. If he had stayed in touch with us and our mother had not kept his identity a secret, Lexi and I wouldn’t be in the position we are now of having relatives who are strangers.
“What’s up, sis?” Lexi asks.
“I’ve just been giving some serious thought to contacting Ivy’s dad. I’m running out of excuses and if I don’t, I won’t be any different from Mom,” I say.
She takes my hand and squeezes it. “It’s the right thing to do. Are you going to call him or go to his place?”
I make a face. “And have him surprise me as he did last time? No, thank you.” I surprise myself by laughing about it. It doesn’t hurt one bit to remember the blond bombshell who had opened the door for me. It seems so long ago now. I have to thank Logan for that. He’s completely healed my heartbreak. A frightening thought lodges itself in my brain but I push it away.
Logan is not going to hurt me, I tell myself. He’s a good person.
“I’ll probably call or text him and ask him to meet him somewhere. A bar maybe. I’ll need a stiff drink to work up the courage to tell him.” A nervous laugh escapes my mouth. How do you tell a man that he fathered a baby who is now almost eight months old? A baby who is crawling already and pulling herself to a standing position? Just thinking about it makes me feel sick.
“You can’t tell someone that they have a child they know nothing about over the phone,” Lexi says. “Do you want me to come with you?”
I shake my head. “That would be cowardice. I’ll be all right.”
We get to the restaurant and find Audrey and Clara already seated at a table for four by the wall. They stand when we approach, and we hug each other.
“I hope we’re not late. When Vanessa and I start talking we lose track of time,” Lexi says.
They stare at each other and laugh. “We’re the same way too,” Audrey says.
After we order, we make small talk and skirt around the issue that has brought us together. Our dad.
The waiter brings our drink orders and when he leaves, I dive in, worried that the lunch will be over before we talk about anything substantial.
I wait for a pause in the conversation. “What was our father like?”
The question is as abrupt as it is unexpected, and Lexi kicks me under the table. I ignore her and continue. “I’ve been curious all my life about this man whose DNA I carry around and our mother wouldn’t tell us anything.”
“He was gentle,” Clara says, and a faraway look comes over her features. “And quiet. You could never tell what was on his mind.”
“Our mother is the opposite. She’s quite the chatterbox,” Audrey says with a laugh. “She was the spokesman for both of them.”
“Our mother is the same way,” I say. “She dominates conversations. Problem was that she never talked about what we wanted to know the most.”