Chapter 3
Izzy
I blinked a few times.
“Izzy’s dad died before she was born,” Alexis said, jerking me back to the conversation.
“I wasn’t aware that was what you’d been told. I dated Katrina about twenty-five years ago. I never knew about you. I just found out about your existence this morning. But I’m ninety-five percent sure you’re my daughter.”
“Wait, you’re serious? This isn’t…” I took a staggered step toward him as a buzzing filled my ears. My stomach rolled with the movement, and suddenly I didn’t feel so good.
My father was alive?
And in front of me?
Oh God.
That was my last coherent thought right before I doubled over and vomited all over my father’s polished boots.
It felt like one of those moments where time froze. Everything just stopped. Everyone around me frozen, no doubt in horror, and me hunched over with bile still clinging to my lips.
Oh my God, I just barfed all over this stranger’s shiny boots.
Well, they weren’t exactly shiny right now.
I wiped at my lips with the back of my hand. I just wanted to die.
Pain ripped at my heart as my hyperbole sank in. My mom was in a coffin literally yards away. God, what was wrong with me?
“Here.”
I looked up at my father’s offered handkerchief.
“Thanks,” I murmured before I buried my face in its soft, white folds.
The scent of leather and some kind of wood enveloped me.
It felt oddly comforting—like a hug or something.
I’d love nothing more than to wallow and not meet the eyes of the man who I’d just barfed all over, but I knew that wasn’t possible.
Plus, there was the whole him being my secret dad who was still alive thing.
My dad.
Why had my mom told me he was dead?
What was he like?
Why hadn’t I met him before now?
Was there some nefarious reason my mom didn’t want me to know him? Was he in the mafia or something? With his build and coloring, he could’ve been a mafioso enforcer.
Or maybe I needed to stop reading so many crazy novels.
Was I breathing fast?
My heart raced and it felt like I wasn’t getting any air despite my panting breaths. “Izzy, are you okay?” Alexis tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.
Oh God, did I have puke in my hair?
“Breathe with me, Iz.” My bestie grabbed my hand and held it to her chest so I could feel her slow, steady breaths.
I closed my eyes, and after a few beats, the smothering panic eased.
I mean, I was still hunched over in the cemetery parking lot with puke everywhere in front of my maybe-dad, but that was totally normal.
“Look, Mister.” Alexis turned to him. “I don’t know who you are, but this is too much for Izzy today. Can I get your number or whatever, and she’ll call you once things have calmed down?”
He crossed his arms over his massive chest and scowled down at my best friend. “I just found out I have a daughter. I’m not just going to disappear.”
“Yeah, well, she just buried her mom, so excuse us if we need a minute to absorb your news. She’s not going anywhere with you, not in the state she’s in. So back the fuck off.”
I don’t think I could love Alexis any more than I did at that moment.
I might be an orphan—or then again, maybe not—but I’d always have my found family.
“What’s going on over here?” Alexis’ father, Shane, popped up behind us. “Do you know this guy, Izzy?”
“He says he’s Izzy’s father,” Alexis answered for me.
“I thought your father wasn’t with us?” Shane asked awkwardly, like saying the word dead was forbidden.
He was sweet, but he’d always been kinda awkward with his daughters and their friends. Like he never really knew how to talk to us.
I shrugged. “That’s not what he’s saying.”
Shane’s eyebrows rose. “Look, Katrina was a friend, and she said Izzy’s father died before she was born.”
“And yet here I am.” He spread his hands out in front of him, like he had nothing to hide.
Like we all should just accept what he was saying.
“Right. I’m sure you can appreciate that this is a difficult day for the girls. Maybe we can all sit down and talk later this week. Can I get your info?”
The man huffed. “Fine.” A few moments later, he was typing his info into Shane’s phone. “I’m staying at the Four Seasons indefinitely. I’ll be ready and waiting for you to talk to me.”
After another searching look my way, he turned and walked to his car. A minute later he drove away, his taillights reflecting on the wet asphalt.
And then it hit me.
“I don’t even know his name.” I laughed softly.
Alexis turned to me and gave me a wide-eyed look. “You’re right. He never even told us his name!”
Then we were bent over, giggling uncontrollably. It was just so ridiculous.
After a minute, we stood up and wiped the tears from our eyes.
“If you two are done, I have his name here.” Shane waved his phone at us. “His name is Beau Benoit.”
“Wait, why does that sound familiar?” Alexis turned to me with a frown.
I shrugged. It didn’t sound familiar to me.
Shane cleared his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you really want to know?”
“Oh god, he’s a famous hitman, isn’t he?” I blurted out.
“What?” Alexis and her dad chorused as they turned to me with confused expressions.
“Babe, hitmen are never famous. They’re ghosts.” Alexis pointed out.
Shane shook his head. “He’s the bass guitarist for the Long Licks.”
Alexis gasped. “Holy—”
“—shit,” I finished.
* * *
Three days later, I was standing alone outside the Four Seasons.
Alexis had to drop me off because parking downtown was stupid.
A request she didn’t want to fulfill. She’d spent the entire drive here lecturing me on the dangers of being alone with a strange man in a hotel room while I’d tried to not have a panic attack.
After the wake, I’d gone through every part of the house, searching for something about my dad or his band—all my mom’s papers, her pictures, her yearbooks—and nothing. Even my birth certificate had ‘None Named’ for father.
Who was this man and how had my mom known him? I mean, aside from the obvious.
I know, I know. I wasn’t going to get any answers out here on the sidewalk. I had to go inside. I was just waiting for the right time. Which, judging by the looks I was getting, was about five minutes ago. Sighing deeply, I willed my feet to move.
I headed through the doors and toward the elevator with single-minded determination.
“Miss. Miss! Can I help you?” A slim Barbie with resting bitch face popped up in front of me.
I blinked and jerked back. “Uh, I don’t need help. I know where I’m going.”
“Are you a guest here?” she asked in this tone that spelled out she knew the answer.
“No, I’m here to see someone.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you have access to the elevators. Those are only for guests and their approved visitors. You can call their room from the phone there.” She gestured to the gleaming white stone front desk beyond the modern gas fireplace.
“They know I’m coming. I’m not some crazy off the street.”
One slim eyebrow arched without wrinkling her face at all. “I never said you were, miss. It’s hotel policy. I hope you understand.”
I don’t know what it was—her imperial attitude, her perfect blonde chignon, or my own hangups—but I wilted under her unimpressed stare. “Uh, that’s okay. I’ll just call him myself.”
This time both eyebrows went up in a clear challenge.
Cringing, I pulled my cell out of my purse and the scrap of paper Shane had given me. I typed in the number with a shaky hand then hit the speakerphone button out of habit.
“Crap,” I muttered, juggling the phone, the paper, and my purse as I tried to deselect the speaker button.
But the line was already ringing, and he answered.
“Yeah,” he barked.
“Uh, it’s Izzy, I mean, Isabella. Isabella Monti?” I closed my eyes with a wince. Why did I say that as a question? What was wrong with me?
“Yeah… Are you on your way?”
“I’m, um, actually here—at your hotel—but they won’t let me come up.”
“Fuck. I’ll come to you.” Then he ended the call without another word.
My heart pounded in my ears just from hearing his voice, and my hands were still shaky as I put my phone away.
But Hotel Barbie looked less sure than she had a few minutes ago.
Of course she didn’t budge from her position either.
So we stood there in awkward silence, still facing off like opponents who studiously avoided looking at each other.
Then the elevator doors slid open and six foot six inches of irate rock star descended on us.
“Who the fuck do I have to talk to?” He thundered. “You? Get my girl a key to my room. Now.”
Hotel Barbie had been staring at him like he was Thor descended from Asgard. But when he’d barked ‘now’ she jolted and all but ran to the desk.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Benoit. She didn’t say she was here as your guest. We had no idea,” Hotel Barbie babbled, while the other slim blonde behind the desk gawked at Maybe-Bio-Dad.
“Because you would’ve let her use the elevator then?” Maybe-Bio-Dad scoffed. “Add her info to my suite. She has permission to charge to the room, and we need a card for her to access the elevator and the room.”
“Oh, I don’t need—”
Hotel Barbie cut me off. “We just need a copy of her driver’s license, and we’ll get that squared away pronto.”
Maybe-Bio-Dad grunted then turned to me. “You got one of those, kiddo?”
Kiddo? That was…a choice. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do.”
And I don’t know why, but I pulled it out and passed it to Hotel Barbie.
She clacked away at the keyboard while I closed my eyes in mortification.
None of this was going how I thought it would.
“All right. We have you all squared away.” Hotel Barbie shoved my license and a hotel keycard at me while her eyes stayed trained on Maybe-Bio-Dad. “And we apologize for the confusion and inconvenience, Mr. Benoit. Please let me know if you need anything.”
I barely withheld my shudder. It gave me so much ick.
But Maybe-Bio-Dad didn’t even flinch. Or notice. He just turned to me with a hesitant expression. “You, uh, you still want to come up? Or we could go out? Whatever you want.”