I wasn’t looking forward to another meeting with my father. The lunch at his house had been intimidating despite Evan and the girls making their best effort to welcome me. Still, I’d felt more out of place than a nun at a rodeo. However, I did leave with a genuine fondness for my father’s other family. Things between Des and me had been strained, like picking through a minefield of what I couldn’t and shouldn’t say. Hopefully today would be better.
At least in a restaurant we were in more neutral territory—although places like this weren’t exactly a staple in my life. Maybe it would mean that the gap between us wouldn’t feel so much like a canyon today. I needed to find some common ground with him. I didn’t have years to get the money my mother needed. The doctor had said that if they didn’t operate soon, it might be too late to stop her from having permanent damage a knee replacement wouldn’t fix.
“Sofia!” my father’s voice rang out from behind me.
I turned and he greeted me with a kiss on both cheeks. It seemed so weird to me that a man who should know me better than anyone greeted me like he’d known me forever when we were pretty much strangers.
He sat and ordered something I didn’t catch from the hostess, then turned to me. “Thank you so much for coming.” He smiled as if he were genuinely delighted to see me. I couldn’t help but wonder why, if he was so happy to have me in his life, he’d never reached out to me. He’d had almost thirty years to find me.
“So how was your week?” he asked. “Managed to see anything of London?”
The only thing I’d seen a lot of was my boss’s naked body. But I wasn’t about to confess that.
“Not much. My job is pretty demanding. My boss is very busy. So I have weekends but mostly, I’m exhausted. Tomorrow, I’m going to take myself off to see some sights.” I wasn’t sure if that was true. Quite honestly, I wanted to spend the day in my PJs, talking to Natalie on the phone and breaking down the latest episode of Real Housewives of New Jersey.
“Andrew Blake still treating you okay?”
“Yup. Just a few weeks into it. But so far so good.” Yes, Andrew was an epic dick, but he also had an epic dick. It wasn’t like the sex made up for how he was in the office, but the James thing and the way he’d been at the bar, the way he was when we were in bed . . . It made him a little more intriguing. He wasn’t just an asshole. He was a compelling asshole.
“He has a reputation for being ruthless. Does he treat you well?”
Images of Andrew naked, between my legs, pushing into me, over me, flashed in my brain.
“Yup,” I managed to squeak out. “Well, truth be told, he’s abrasive and rude, but nothing I can’t handle.”
A small grin pushed at the edges of his mouth. “I’m glad to hear it.”
I shrugged. “I think he appreciates me. He just buries it deep. Lucky for me, I inherited a killer work ethic from my mom. She worked three jobs when I was young.” I clammed up when I realized what I’d said. I’d forgotten who I was talking to. Shit, I needed to get the lid back on this can of worms immediately. Everything I said was true, but that wasn’t the point. The last thing I wanted to do was to make Des feel uncomfortable. That wasn’t going to encourage him to get out his checkbook.
“A strong work ethic is important,” he said. “It’s something I worry about with Bella and Bryony. They have so much, they need something more than necessity to drive them. My father always drilled it into me that nothing came for free. Everything was to be worked for.”
Nothing came for free? I was pretty sure that great big house full of flower prints and chandeliers was inherited. But I didn’t say anything. What would be the point?
“Yup, well it’s definitely easier to be motivated when you need to put food on the table and pay the electric bill.”
Des nodded slowly and took a sip of the wine I hadn’t noticed had been placed in front of us. I’d been too busy wondering if my father understood the definition of irony.
“I have a lot of regrets.” He set down his glass and looked me directly in the eye. “Some due to decisions I made, some due to decisions I didn’t.” He sucked in a deep breath like he was trying to alleviate pain. I was filled with rage at the very idea. He wasn’t the victim here. I was. My mom was.
“Like what?” I asked, the Italian blood in my veins jumping all of a sudden.