Chapter 15 #2
My shoulders felt a little lighter when I ended the call. I was nervous but just the short conversation with him had eased a lot of the things I had been worrying about.
When I saw my reflection in the window, I decided I had to make myself more presentable. I didn’t want this to be Sebastian’s first impression of me.
I ordered some food from the room service menu before I jumped into the shower and washed my hair. The food arrived just as I was finished slipping on a new outfit. I tipped the guy before he left. I had only ordered a sandwich, unsure I would even be able to finish it.
While I ate, I tried to make a list of questions I wanted to ask Sebastian. There was still a little doubt and I wondered if he had more concrete evidence than just my birth certificate to prove his father was also mine.
Would he be angry if I questioned him ?
In all fairness I was meeting a stranger.
This wasn’t someone I knew or had grown up with.
It made me think of Matthew and Sophie. As much as my brother could drive me nuts, I loved him so much.
And the same went for Sophie. We shared childhood memories.
I wouldn’t have that with Sebastian and Cole.
When I allowed my mind to wander that far ahead, it all became too much and I pushed the half-eaten sandwich away. I had decided to play it safe and meet him in a public area until I was more comfortable, so we were meeting downstairs in the bar at the hotel.
It was only when I entered the bar ten minutes before we were due to meet that I realized I had no idea what he looked like.
I scanned the room and there were a few older men that were just too old to be him.
Then in the corner I saw a guy stand. He was dressed in an expensive suit and looked a few years older than me. He had short, dark-blond hair.
He looked straight at me with awe and I looked over my shoulder to make sure it was me he was looking at.
When I turned back to him, he came up to me and I linked my hands nervously.
“I’m Sebastian,” he introduced, his wide eyes taking in my features.
He was my brother. I felt the burn of tears but refused to allow myself to allow it to overwhelm me. This meeting was too important.
“Don’t cry.” He brushed a tear that slid down my cheek.
“I’m sorry.” I felt self-conscious.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Let’s sit.”
We sat down at his table and I felt my stomach tied up in knots as I brushed remaining wetness from my cheeks.
A waiter came up to ask us if we wanted something to drink.
Sebastian ordered a whiskey, which reminded me of Mark. I decided to stick with water. I wanted to keep my mind clear.
“You must have questions,” he said .
I nodded. There were so many, I wasn’t sure where to start.
“Gabriel…your friend…the lawyer…he showed me my birth certificate,” I babbled, not making as much sense as I had in my mind. Sebastian nodded.
“Do you have anything else…like more concrete evidence to prove that I’m really who you…believe I am?” I waited for his response. I needed more proof before I tore my family apart.
“I do.” He reached inside the pocket of his suit and produced a folded document and gave it to me.
Nervously I opened it up and began to read it. It looked like legal adoption papers. My father had legally adopted me. There was no disputing I was Robert Westwood’s daughter and Sebastian was my half-brother. What hit me the hardest was my father had known.
“How long have you known?” I asked, still holding the document.
“For a while.”
I felt a sadness for the person I wouldn’t be able to meet or get to know, but that was mixed with the anger that he had given me up. Had there been something wrong with me?
“Did your mom know about it when it happened?”
He nodded. “It had been a difficult time in their marriage when the affair took place. And it took a lot of counseling to get them back on track after you were born.”
I nodded, still struggling not to feel like a reminder of something the participants wanted to forget. Had I been a daily reminder to my parents of my mother’s infidelity?
“Can I keep this?” I asked hoarsely. He nodded.
The waiter returned with our drinks and I sipped some water.
“What was he like?” I found myself asking. I wanted something about him that resonated with my traits. Was he absent-minded like me, because my mother was the most organized person I knew. Did I inherit my creativeness from him ?
He sat back in his chair and sighed. “He was a good father. There wasn’t a time in my life when I couldn’t depend on him. He always had the best advice and had a way at looking at things in a different way, which made it easier to see the best solution.”
“This must be hard for you to talk about him,” I sympathized, knowing he had died recently.
He smiled. “Some days I’m sad but he told me he didn’t want me to waste time grieving. He told me he had a good life and three beautiful children. His only regret was…giving you up.”
I let out a shaky breath, noting how crowded the bar was becoming and not wanting anyone to eavesdrop on a personal conversation. “Would you mind if we continued this in my room?”
“Sure.”