Chapter 17 #2
“An abortion.” I finished for him. My mother had told me he’d offered her a little cash the last time they spoke, but she’d turned it down.
My mother was a proud woman so it hadn’t surprised me she hadn’t taken it, but I’d also resented her for it.
Maybe life would have been easier back then if we’d had a little more.
But now her refusal made more sense. It was money to get rid of me.
There was no way she would have touched it.
Not only was my mother Catholic, but she’d always told me that she knew the moment she was pregnant and had loved me from that second, even when I was just a few measly cells.
That knowledge had always made me feel safe—completely sure of her unconditional love for me.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I didn’t blame him for wanting her to get an abortion. They were young and I was in no way planned. What I had a problem with was that if she chose not to have the abortion, where was the money?
“I was just trying to do something and your mother—”
I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the fact he was talking about her. He had no right to. She was a thousand times the person he would ever be.
“She chose to keep her daughter.”
“She did. And she’s done a great job bringing you up.”
I nodded. “She has. But it was hard. And she . . .” My mother wouldn’t want me to be talking to Des, let alone describing how we’d suffered.
How she’d sacrificed her life for me. She would bat away my questions and tell me there was nothing on earth she would rather do than raise me to be a strong, independent woman.
What was I doing here? She would rather cut off her leg than take money from the man who sat opposite me.
“I think I should leave,” I said, rooted to my seat, wanting to go and figure out these tangled, confused feelings.
Meeting my father and getting to a point in our relationship where I could ask him for money was meant to be like a job.
A mission. Get in, get what I wanted, get out.
I’d obviously been na?ve, but I honestly hadn’t expected to enter an emotional maelstrom.
I’d always managed to keep thoughts about my father in a box tucked safely away in an abandoned corner of my mind.
There was no need to open that box because he wasn’t part of my life.
My mother was my parent. She loved me. That’s all that mattered.
My father had been nothing but a sperm donor.
But being here in front of him changed things.
Now I wanted to understand how he could have walked away from a child—his child.
Me. I sort of understood that at twenty he didn’t have his shit together and didn’t want to go against his family. But at some point, he’d become a man.
“I’d really like you to stay,” he said. “I know that’s a lot to ask. But I’d like to get to know you more.”
He’d had a long time to try to get to know me.
“Just tell me one thing,” I said. “You left the US at twenty and went back to your family. I get it.” I shrugged.
I had sympathy for a boy who got a girl pregnant and had his family put pressure on him to cut her off.
Not that I excused his behavior, but I kind of got it.
“But you grew up, you took over the business, you got married, you had kids, your dad died. Somewhere in all that, you got agency over your life. And you still didn’t make things right. ”
The waiters came to take our plates, top up our wine and water, and as they did, I could see the wheels turning in my father’s head.
When we were alone again, he said, “I hate myself for being so weak. I still do.”
He paused but wasn’t done.
“I’d pushed aside what I had done. When we lost contact, I wouldn’t allow myself to think about what had happened.”
It wasn’t nice what he was saying, but it was honest. I could see it in his eyes.
“I only allowed myself to think about you a few times. First when I hit twenty-five. Second, before I asked Evan to marry me. I’d told her about you. Obviously, I didn’t know if you were a boy or a girl, but I felt like I’d betrayed one woman—I didn’t want Evan to be the second.”
“Three women,” I said, pointing a finger at myself.
He nodded. “And then finally when Bella was born, I thought about . . . you, and what you were doing and . . . I thought you were probably better off without me.”
I swallowed. Better off without him maybe. But we could have done with his money. Still could do with his money.
“When you called, it felt like I was getting a second chance.”
If my mother could see me now, she’d call me disloyal.
She’d swear at me in Italian and take to her bed.
And not just because I was here talking to someone who’d made her life so difficult, but also because I could feel the ice around my heart weaken slightly.
He just seemed so nice. Evan was lovely.
Their kids were adorable. And what Des was saying made sense. It felt raw and true and heartbreaking.
I didn’t come here to like this guy. To understand him. I just wanted his money. I wanted him to pay his debts. If he turned out to be a nice guy who made a huge mistake, I wasn’t sure where that left me.
“This is a lot,” I said, setting my napkin down on the table and standing.
“I need to . . . think.” The man in front of me was weak, but he was also human.
I hadn’t been prepared for that. I’d been prepared for a monster.
Someone I could manipulate and charm to get what I deserved.
Now I wasn’t sure what I was doing sitting opposite him.
“Of course,” he said. “It is a lot. And I don’t want to burden you, but I want you to know the truth. It’s the least you deserve.”
The only problem was, I’d never wanted the truth. I’d never wanted a genuine connection with the man who was my father. I just wanted his money. Now I was being offered something more, I didn’t know what to do with it.