Chapter 45
forty-five
The last two days have been emotionally taxing.
While I’ve enjoyed getting to know my mother through the eyes of those who knew her best, I’ve also had to come to terms with the reality of who my father really is.
For so long I made excuses on his behalf.
I knew students at my boarding school who never spoke to their fathers or were disowned by their parents, and I told myself that I could have had it far worse. That at the very least, my dad made sure to set me up with a good education.
But that farce ended after our surprise guests left and an emotionally drained Nick informed me that all the funds that paid for our education and care came from my mother’s life insurance policy. Her will demanded it.
I was already set to walk away from my father after finding out he’d kept my mother’s loved ones away from us at a time we needed them most. But the fact that he spent my entire life boasting about providing financially for his children, as if he deserved some kind of medal for it, strengthened my resolve.
Our dinner is tonight, and I decided that I needed a final face-to-face conversation to end our relationship.
He picked an overpriced steakhouse in the heart of midtown, a place where people love to be seen, as the spot for us to have our long overdue heart to heart. Because of course he did.
Which is exactly why I washed and diffused my hair today, giving my long curls an extra bit of bounce, and threw on one of the coziest outfits Luke bought for me back when we were hiding up north.
A cream cropped T-shirt and lounge pant set, oversized brown cardigan, and for sentimental value, my white Converses.
Which Luke now lovingly refers to as my “runaway” shoes.
I do my makeup nicely, and while my clothes are cute and trendy, I am very much underdressed for this restaurant, which is exactly what I planned.
I beat the doorman to the door and salute him on my way in.
I breeze by the hostess stand since I spotted my father as soon as I walked in.
I honestly could have guessed that he’d pick the center table, knowing that the man loves an audience, which is exactly why this short but sweet meeting is going to be so satisfying.
“Oh, hey there, Dad.” I plonk down into the chair across from him.
His jaw drops as he blinks repeatedly. Confusion quickly transforms into embarrassment. “For the love of God, Daisy. This is a fine establishment. What are you—”
“Hmm, it is nice. Maybe Nick will buy it for Luisa. Although I am much fonder of the last bar he bought for her.”
His lip curls at the mention of my brother. He’s never been able to hide his envy for his biological son and the way he has far surpassed him in wealth and success. Something I’ve always tiptoed around, wanting to keep the peace between the two men in my life.
Lovely how I won’t have to do that anymore.
“Daisy, I don’t know what has gotten into you lately, but luckily, there is still a chance for you to right your wrongs.”
I wait for it. That twinge of guilt that’ll send me backsliding into being my father’s perfect little people pleaser.
And a wide grin overtakes my face when I realize… it’s finally gone.
A waiter comes by our table, lifting the bottle of wine that’s been decanting at my father’s side to pour into my glass. My hand covers the wineglass before he has a chance to continue. “Actually, I’ll have a Coke.”
The waiter nods and scurries off.
“A-a Coke? Daisy, this is a two-hundred-dollar bottle of wine. Soda is for children with poor dental care. And you are a woman of societ—”
“Yeah, so I’m going to stop you before we go around in circles, because I have plans after this. So why exactly have you called for this dinner? I want to know right now what it is that you think we need to talk about.”
It’s too late. My mind is already made up about going no-contact with my father. But out of morbid curiosity, I’m dying to know if he’ll play the act of an apologetic father or if he’ll fess up to the lifetime of fuckery he’s engaged in.
He takes a sip of his wine, pulling discreetly at his tie. “About you and Damien. I think things have gotten a bit out of hand.”
And there’s my answer, folks.
“He’s very apologetic about how he spoke to you after you up and disappeared from your very own wedding, leaving the poor bloke reeling. But I assure you, he is still willing to carry on with your engagement and take the appropriate steps to setting your relationship back on track.”
“Willing,” I mouth to myself as a fresh Coke with lemon and ice is placed in front of me.
“Yes, we can carry on with the engagement and have you wed in the summer, I suppose. Right before the campaign kicks into high gear,” he yammers on excitedly.
I nod. “Interesting. You’re a part of the engagement? When are you and Damien going to go public with your relationship? I’m sure it would do wonders for his family values platform.”
He snarls at me before forcing his face into a scary smile. “This is not the time for silly jokes, Daisy. You are a Stonehaven, and it’s about time you start acting like it,” he hisses through his teeth.
Having had enough of this, I wave him off and go for what I’m really after: the truth. “Were you ever going to tell me that my mother was the one who funded my education and my livelihood for the first eighteen years of my life, or were you going to ride that lie out until the wheels fell off?”
He goes still before pointing a finger in my direction.
“Is that what your brother told you? He went digging around for all those wills your mother apparently kept behind my back, and now thinks he knows everything. But let me tell you, I still had responsibilities to follow through on, even if that absurd life insurance policy that she somehow paid for footed the bill for that boarding school. I am still your father, and that’s all that matters. ”
“Hmm, and what about the family and friends who contacted you after Mom died, hoping to keep in touch with Nick and me?”
His eyes widen slightly before he’s able to school his features again.
“What? Someone on social media reaching out to you, trying to scam you or something? Don’t believe everything you read, Daisy.
You are far too innocent and na?ve for this cruel world, which is why you’re lucky to have Damien and me around to keep you in line. ”
I could barf over this table at the way he’s speaking, but I need to clear up one last thing.
“And after I fall back in line, is that when your hedge fund is going to take over Damien’s family money, or do you have to wait until after I walk down the aisle?
Just trying to get all my ducks in a row before I royally fuck you over, Dad. ”
He goes beet red.
Gotcha.
Before he’s able to respond, his phone lights up with a message, changing his demeanor completely. “My apologies. I need to use the restroom. I’ll only be a moment. Wait right here.” He runs off with a smirk before I’ve had the chance to deliver the little speech I reserved for him.
Oh well. Looks like I’ll have to go without it. Because I wasn’t lying when I said I had plans after this.
Tonight’s game is a monumental one for the Monarchs. If they win, they will have achieved the longest winning streak ever in MLB history. The fact that it’s against the other iconic New York baseball team, another titan of the sport, makes this game extra exciting.
I lean down to grab my bag, but when I sit up, I have to bite my tongue to silence the scream I almost let out at the sight of Damien, who is now sitting confidently in the chair my father was previously occupying.
“Aren’t you a slippery one to catch alone as of late?” He swirls the wine around in his glass, looking like an evil mastermind.
I move to stand but decide to make myself comfortable in my seat instead. Because it seems as though I’m about to have a two-for-one meeting with the men I’ll never speak to again.
He smiles victoriously at me as he leans over the table, serving me that glass of wine I wasn’t interested in to begin with.
I stare at him, noting every inch of his face.
The face I had somehow convinced myself I was in love with.
Wanted to marry and have children with. How the hell did I miss the thinly veiled cruelty behind the mask?
The same brand my father seems to brandish.
Goddamn, those daddy issues really screwed me there.
My instinct is to leave, not wanting Luke to have to witness yet another leaked photo of Damien and me. But last time I was ambushed, Luke made it clear the only thing I needed to worry about was him getting his hands on my ex, and not a miscommunication between the two of us.
And by the way Damien is taking in the eyes of everyone sneaking a peek at us, I can’t really say I’m against a little bit of violence anymore.
Speaking into his swirling glass, he starts.
“So this is how this is going to go. You are going to put on the ring I have in my suit jacket and we are going to walk out of here hand in hand. Apparently, people are eating up my whole redemption arc and are dying to see if I can get my girl back. Everyone loves a second-chance love story, and we’re going to give it to them.
” He smiles wickedly. “And after my election win, I’ll kick you to the curb and you’ll be free to date that unkempt man who works for that sports team you’re so fond of. ”
I stiffen at the way he speaks of Luke. “How did you—”
“Please, Daisy. I have resources and I am prudent at using them. When your little pit bull of a friend came at me at that grimy bar, it was easy to put the pieces together.” He leans in farther, as if we’re sharing a salacious secret.
“Although I must say, my risk-averse fiancée, how daring of you to go for a man whose last partner is currently six feet under after giving drunk road head. Never knew you had that in you.”
The only reason I’m not throwing my untouched glass of wine in his face is because while he was spewing his vile words, I noticed his tiny pupils and the continuous flow of sweat curling around his hairline.
Looks like the women he sleeps with aren’t the only ones who dabble in drugs.
He’s clearly high and desperate. And while I would love nothing more than to publicly humiliate this man and shred any chance he has of being on the ballot this fall, I am also well-versed in true crime and do not need to be looking over my shoulder for the foreseeable future, waiting for him to jump out from every corner.
Instead, I level him with a glare that should set him on fire as I speak calmly. “Now that you’re done rambling, allow me to inform you of how”—I point between the two of us—“this is going to go.”
His eyes narrow, but I carry on. “You are going to leave me, and the ones I love, alone. You will keep my name out of your mouth and try to salvage whatever votes you think you may have after making a total ass of yourself by publicly declaring that we were still engaged, and in return, I will make sure my brother doesn’t bury you in legal fees and my man doesn’t get his hands around your neck.
Sound like a deal?” I add cheerily before standing up and walking straight to the exit.
To no one’s surprise, there is a small crowd of paparazzi waiting out front. God, this is getting old.
And like the show pony he is, Damien steps out right behind me, smiling for the cameras as if we’re walking out together.
The camera flashes are incessant, and working in media for the Monarchs, I know how easily it could be to misinterpret a moment captured on film alone.
It’s why I love working the Hot Mic’d segment, because it gives my players a chance to show off their personalities and who they really are behind the jerseys.
Which is why I risk my chances at being featured on a murder podcast and take the opportunity that Damien has given me. While he has his back turned to me and is chatting it up with one photographer about wedding plans with “his lady,” I smile at the cameras myself.
As I lift both of my middle fingers and aim them his way.