Possessive Baby Daddy

It’s time to move on and start something of my own.

“Good luck, Dad,” I say. “I hope you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

I nod, turn, and leave his office.

He doesn’t say a word as I walk out into the hall.

I linger there for a moment after his door closes. I look around at the space, at the familiar building, at the familiar faces. I smile and say hello to Mark from accounting, Herb from accounts, Tina from advertising. I’ve been with this company, with these people, all of my adult life.

And now it’s time to let it go. No more games, no more contests. I’m not taking over what my father built, because I’m going to build something better.

From the ground up.

I won’t have to change the culture at Truth Hurts. Whatever I start will be mine, all mine, entirely mine. And nothing will change that.

I smile as I go clean out my office.20ShaunI track down my mother’s room at a fancy private boutique hotel right in downtown and ride the elevator up. I get off at the top floor and walk past two rooms until I reach the very last in the hall. I knock once, wait a minute, and knock again.

I hear her moving inside before the lock clicks open and the door swings in. She looks at me and seems surprised. She’s wearing a sweater and sweatpants, her hair back in a casual bun, and without a bit of makeup. I can’t remember the last time I saw her in sweats.

“Shauny,” she says and a little smile crosses her lips. “You found me.”

“Wasn’t hard,” I say. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she says, sighing. “Sore, but okay.”

I tilt my head. She looks tired and drawn, but she smiles at me.

“Can I come in?”

“I suppose.” She steps aside. Her room is a large suite and everything is in its place. Even recovering alone from surgery, she’d never make a mess. “This isn’t necessary.”

“I’m here for business,” I say.

“Ah.” She laughs. “And I thought you came to check up on your mother.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve made it clear over the years that you don’t want us to fuss over you.”

She smiles and shuts the door. “Fair enough. Sit down.”

I take a seat on a chair. She walks over to the small kitchen and busies herself making tea.

“Tell me how it went,” I say.

“Well, it was routine,” she answers. “I’m back to my old womanly form. More or less, anyway. I won’t be wearing a ballgown anytime soon.”

“Healing?” I ask.

“Months,” she says wistfully. “But I can travel tomorrow. Once I’m home, the staff will tend to me, and I’ll check in with Dr. Chorder.”

“Good,” I say, nodding. “That’s good. And are you going to tell Dad about the cancer?”

“No.” She brings the tea over and sets it down. “I’m not going to.”

I frown as she pours the water. I don’t remember her ever making her own tea. It’s strange, seeing my mother like this. She seems so frail, so old, and yet so much like herself, but even more so. I think maybe this is what it feels like to see your mother as an actual person, and not just as your mother.

“Let’s talk about why you’re here.”

“It’s about Klara.”

“Ah.” She smiles at me. “I had a feeling. Did you know that she told me about the baby?”

I take a sharp breath. “She did?”

“She did.” Mother laughs at my expression. “Don’t be so terrified, darling. It’s okay.”

“How is that okay?”

“I don’t care if you conceived out of wedlock. I’m just happy you found someone.”

I shake my head, trying to get my thoughts together. “Her father knows too, but I don’t think she knows that yet.”

“You should tell her. Or not, I don’t know their relationship.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Ah. Well. We know something about that, don’t we?”

I shrug. “I’m happy you’re okay with this, Mother.”

“It’s not so much about how I feel about it, darling. It’s more about how you feel, isn’t it?”

I laugh. “Since when was that true? The only thing that matters is the Lofthouse name.”

“That’s true. But I have every confidence you’ll do the right thing. I suspect you’ve already tried.”

“She wouldn’t marry me.”

“No. But she will. I think that girl loves you.”

“I love her too, Mother.”

She smiles and reaches out. She puts her hand on my knee, startling me. “Good boy. I know you do.”

“Uh,” I say.

She pulls her hand back and sighs. “Now, let’s talk business before I get overly sentimental,” she says. “It’s very unbecoming, you know.”

“Right.” I clear my throat. I’ve never seen her so open before in my life. I wonder if the cancer scared her more than she’s willing to admit. “Klara needs help.”

“How?”

“Her father won’t sell. She put together a good group of investors, raised plenty of money, but he still won’t budge.”

“And what should we do about that?”