Chapter 32 #2
Calvin’s arms are around me instantly, grounding me in a world that suddenly feels paper-thin.
“I’m proud of you,” he murmurs into my hair. I melt into him. For the first time all day, I let myself lean. I don’t care that Abigail is still in the room. Or that she’s texting, probably Ryan. She has to know by now. The secret’s out. And honestly, I’m too shattered to care.
Abigail finally looks up, voice shaking. “Blair, I’m so sorry. I hope one day you can forgive me. Forgive all of us.”
She walks toward me, but I shake my head, the hurt swelling too thick in my chest. “Don’t,” I rasp.
“You lied to me my entire life, Abby. Do you get that? My whole life. You don’t just come back from that.
” My voice trembles, but I keep my spine straight.
“I’m not ready to forgive you. Honestly, I don’t know if I ever will. ”
Her shoulders collapse beneath the weight of my words, and tears slide freely down her cheeks. But before she can respond, the elevator chimes again, and this time, the room goes still.
The doors part, and a man steps through.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Sun-kissed skin. Crisp white shirt tucked into tailored charcoal slacks. He looks like he just walked off the pages of a business magazine.
And then I see it, the curve of his smile, the shape of his eyes.
My smile.
My eyes.
He doesn’t speak right away. He just stands there, eyes locked on mine like he’s memorizing every inch of my face.
Abigail’s voice cracks. “Blair… this is Ryan. Your… your father.”
The word lands with a thud, and I flinch. My stomach knots. I already have a dad, I want to say. But my dad is apparently my grandfather. And the reminder slices through me all over again.
Ryan takes a cautious step forward. His voice, when it comes, is lower than I expect. “Wow,” he breathes. “It’s really you.”
I say nothing, stunned into stillness.
He must see the storm in my eyes because he raises his hands slightly, like he’s approaching a wild thing. “Listen,” he says softly. “We don’t have to jump into anything. I know this is… a lot. For now, I’m just Ryan. I’d be honored to get to know you, if you’ll let me.”
Then he smiles. That quiet, crooked smile I’ve seen in the mirror my entire life.
And I nearly break.
My voice is barely a whisper when I say, “Okay.”
Calvin squeezes my arm gently, grounding me again. “I’ll give you two some space,” he says, kissing my temple before stepping away.
“Abigail,” he calls over his shoulder, tone clipped. “Can we talk?”
Abigail hesitates, glancing between me and Ryan… Ryan, my father. The title feels foreign, like it doesn’t belong to him yet. But then something unexpected happens. Ryan wraps his hand lightly around Abigail’s waist, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he leans close.
“We’ll be fine,” he murmurs softly. Abigail bites her lip, and for a fleeting second, she looks almost my age. Interesting.
The moment they’re gone, Ryan turns back to me, his eyes searching and cautious. “Is it okay if I sit?”
I stare at him for a long second, then nod once.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Go ahead.”
He settles into the chair across from me. “I know this is weird,” he begins, voice low and sincere. “Believe me, it was weird for me too. But I’m really glad you wanted to meet me. Maybe even get to know me,” he adds, flashing that crooked smile again.
Before I can stop myself, the words spill out. “Are you sleeping with Abigail?”
Ryan blinks, caught off guard. Then he chuckles softly. “Guess we’re diving straight into the deep end.” He nods once, accepting it. “Yeah. She found me in LA a few months ago. We… reconnected.”
He doesn’t flinch or fumble, and for some reason, that earns him a sliver of respect.
“When did you find out about me?” I ask, leaning forward, unable to hold back my urgency.
“The moment she saw me,” he says. “She blurted it out before I could even ask why she was there. And when she showed me your picture…” His breath catches just slightly. “I knew. I didn’t need a test. I saw you, and I knew.”
I swallow hard.
“Are you married?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Kids?”
“Other than you? Nope.” He grins. “At least I don’t think so, but hey, it’s LA.”
He’s trying to joke. I don’t laugh.
“What do you do for a living?” I ask a little too casually. What kind of man was hidden from me all this time?
For the first time, Ryan hesitates. “I told myself I’d be honest with you. I know I missed out on twenty years of your life, and I’ll never get that time back. But if you let me… I’d like to be in your life now. I want to show you I can be something real. Something good.”
“I’m not looking for a dad,” I say quickly, almost defensive.
“I get that,” he replies without missing a beat. “But I’ll still be here if you ever want one. I just don’t want to screw up whatever chance we have. I hope being honest with you doesn’t ruin that before it even starts.”
I raise a brow, signaling him to just spit it out already.
He exhales slowly. “I own the biggest BDSM club in LA.”
I blink. Then again. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not,” he says, dead serious.
My cheeks burn. I feel like an open book, and Ryan notices. He sighs. “Unbelievable. Let me guess, he introduced you to the lifestyle?”
“You mean Calvin?” I reply, narrowing my eyes.
“Yeah.”
“Well, yeah. He did.” Then I hesitate. “You don’t like him, do you?”
“You could say that,” he says through gritted teeth.
“But you don’t even know him,” I argue, defensive now. Protective, even.
“Oh, I know him,” Ryan replies, and something about his tone annoys me.
I frown. “That’s vague and unhelpful.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “God, you’re so much like your mother.”
That word affiliated with Abby throws me, but I recover quickly. “Why don’t you like my boyfriend?”
Ryan leans forward. “Let’s see… he gets into a fake relationship with your mom, then ends up in a relationship with you. That alone raises about fifteen red flags.”
My face goes hot with anger. “It wasn’t like that,” I snap. “He’s an amazing man, and he treats me well.”
Ryan raises his hands in surrender. “I don’t doubt it. And if he wasn’t good to you, something tells me your mom would’ve had his balls in a jar by now. But for now, that’s enough about him. I didn’t come here to argue. I came here to get to know you.”
I let that sit for a moment.
“Your mom told me you’re in Paris, studying fashion design. Said you’re brilliant. I’ve been keeping tabs since she told me. Just… watching from afar.”
“You’ve been watching me?”
“Yes, your pictures and videos on social media,” he says simply. “I’ve missed two decades of your life. I’m trying to catch up, however I can.”
For the first time, I smile, really smile. It catches me off guard.
“Well… what do you want to know?”
“Everything,” Ryan says without hesitation, leaning in like I’m the most fascinating thing in the world.
So, I tell him.
About Paris. About school. About how I almost passed out giving my first fashion presentation.
About the way I can’t eat shellfish without breaking out in hives, which, apparently, I got from him.
About little things that don’t seem important until I’m saying them aloud.
And the more I speak, the more I realize I want him to know. I want him to see me.
It feels like talking to a stranger and looking in a mirror all at once. And strangely… it feels like a beginning.