Logan left that morning after a long, lingering kiss. His fear had dissipated quickly, and the last couple of days he had been the usual dirty-talking, sexy man I had fallen for. He was intense, yet gentle—walking the fine line between the two perfectly. I was looking forward to the next nine months if that was the way he approached my pregnancy.
I stared out the window, looking at the sun glistening off the snow. I had been restless all morning, unable to settle. I was so used to being busy, productive. The truth was, there was nothing stopping me from doing so. I was healthy and the baby fine. What had occurred had been due to the enormous stress and pressure I was feeling. I blew out a long breath, knowing why I was restless. I had unfinished business to handle. I needed to talk to my father. And I needed to do it in order to move forward.
I dressed simply in warm slacks and a pretty sweater. I called Logan to tell him I was going out. He was silent for a moment.
“I don’t suppose you’d wait and let me go with you to see him?”
“How did you know I was going to see my father?”
“Because I know you.”
“I have to do this, Logan. And I need to do it on my own.”
“Promise me if he upsets you, you’ll leave.”
“I promise.”
“Don’t let him guilt you into going back.”
I laughed. “Pretty sure that ship has sailed. I am going to talk to him, get a few things I want from my office, and I’m done. I’ll be home when you get here.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Those simple words made my heart soar. “I love you.”
“Ah, Lottie. You have no idea how much I love you back.”
I hung up, his words bolstering me. I called Lorie, who assured me my father was there and she would make sure I got in.
I pulled on my coat and mitts and headed out. It felt familiar, the walk and the subway ride, but this time, it was different. There was no pit of fear in my stomach, no worry or tension running down my spine. I was nervous about seeing my dad, but it was a personal kind of anxious. I didn’t have to deal with clients or numbers. Present facts and figures to people and convince them to invest. Worry and fret about the details. Today would be the last day I walked through the doors of Prescott Inc. as an employee. I wondered as I headed toward the building if I would ever come back. Would I ever walk in as Charles Prescott’s daughter for a visit? Bring my child to see his or her grandfather? Watch him bounce them on his knee the way he did me as a child?
I had to stop and wipe away a tear. There was only one way to find out. I squared my shoulders and walked into the building.
It felt odd to be back—as if it had been years, not a matter of days, since I had walked the halls. I went straight to my father’s office. Lorie took me into his private area, assuring me he was almost done with his meeting in the boardroom and would be right in.
“I miss you around here,” she whispered. “You’re not coming back?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “Don’t be. I’m happy. Relieved, if I’m being honest. Maybe we can do lunch sometime.”
“Oh, I’d love that.”
We exchanged numbers, and I sat and waited for a few moments, my nerves suddenly tight. I felt my anxiety creeping in, and I wondered if perhaps I should have waited for Logan. He would have held my hand and whispered silly things to distract me. Made rude comments about my father’s swanky office. Lewd promises about what he’d do to me once we got home.
I concentrated on my breathing the way they taught me at the hospital, and I felt myself calm. My phone buzzed, and I peeked at the screen, smiling at the simple words that made me feel better instantly.
You got this, Snow Queen.
My father walked in, his footsteps measured and unhurried. I stood and turned, surprised to see him looking very un-Charles-Prescott-like. To the rest of the world, he probably looked normal, but I saw the pallor under his skin. The weary pull around his eyes. His tie was slightly askew.
He cleared his throat. “Charlotte.”
“Charles.”
He rounded his desk, sitting down heavily. “I was surprised when Lorie said you were coming in.”
“I wanted to close this chapter before I moved on.”
His gaze drifted over my shoulder. “So, you really aren’t returning?”
I shook my head. “I think it’s for the best, for both of us.”
He ran a hand through his hair, leaving a small tuft sticking up. It seemed so out of place with the rest of his neat, orderly persona, and I had to ask.