Excerpt from Thick and Thin
W hen we got to his office, he closed the door.
“Have a seat.”
“This won’t take long,” I said, refusing to take a chair.
“Do you need another day off? You look like you’re still not feeling well.”
“I’m fine.” Rather than sitting, Sinclair stood beside me, arching an eyebrow as if it would will me to speak—and it did.
“I want to talk to you about my father. I need to take him to his clinic appointment this week.”
“I hadn’t decided if I was going to let you go. I told you I’d send someone to pick your father up and take him. In fact, I can have someone answer to his beck and call if that’s what you’d like.”
“That’s not the problem.” I didn’t quite know the problem, actually, but I had a great imagination and had thought about it all night.
“My dad’s been ill for quite some time—and he has good days and bad days. And he doesn’t know what to expect from the clinic. He’s afraid to go by himself.”
“If I send a driver—”
“That driver doesn’t know him. That would still be like going by himself.” I could see the conflict stirring in Sinclair’s eyes…
and I was convinced he was going to give in to my demands—so I kept going.
“There’s no such thing as an emotional support driver. I am his emotional support. I’m his rock just like he was mine when I was a little girl. If I’m there, he’ll go, even if it’s just for me. Any driver you send will not have that effect on him. It’s not the same.”
“I understand that. But it’s not that simple.” It was clear that he wasn’t listening—and, when I realized that, I was gripped in panic.
I could not lose my father.
It was bad enough that I hadn’t seen him in months.
Sinclair, oblivious to my turmoil, said, “You and I have an agreement—”
“ NO! ”
I couldn’t listen to his refusal anymore.
This had been the confirmation I’d needed: he didn’t love me.
I was nothing more than a possession to him.
So many emotions tore through me and I had to get away from him.
In just the space of a few seconds, this man had broken my heart in two ways.
He didn’t love me and he stubbornly wanted to keep me from my father.
Turning, I threw open the door and started running—from the east rear hall through the main hallway before I all but flew up the stairs to my bedroom.
I was such a mix of emotions, unable to process thought as panic, fury, and heartache filled my veins.
By the time Sinclair walked through the open doorway to my bedroom, I already had one of my small suitcases on the bed, a drawer open as I flung what few things I had here into it.
His voice broke through.
“Lise, you’re being unreasonable.”
“No, you are.” As if by a sign from the heavens, the contract I’d signed with him my first week here was the only thing left in the top drawer.
And I’d be damned if I was going to take that horrible thing with me.
I picked it up and turned to face him, ripping it in half and then continuing to shred it until pieces fell on the bed and the floor.
“And I’m done here.