Not Pretending Anymore by Vi Keeland
CHAPTER 7
Molly
Declan found a parking spot around the corner from my father’s house in Lincoln Park.
“So I’ll just be here doing some work if you need me.”
I felt bad making him wait in the car. He’d said he had work to do, but I couldn’t imagine he would have chosen to be stuck in his vehicle if he weren’t doing me a favor. And if I admitted that I felt bad asking him to wait here for me, he’d insist on doing it anyway. So instead, I made it seem like I needed his support at dinner. It wasn’t a total lie.
“Do you...think we could change the plan? I’d love it if you could come inside with me.”
His forehead wrinkled. “You want me to have dinner with you and your dad?”
“I know it’s kind of random for me to bring you along, but I’d prefer not to be alone.”
“Well, that’s all you had to say.” Declan removed his seatbelt. “But what’s the story?”
“What do you mean?”
“Who am I supposed to be?”
I punched his shoulder gently. “How about my roommate, Declan?”
“Now there’s a novel idea.” He chuckled.
“Just be yourself.”
He winked. “I can do that.”
We exited the car and made our way up my father’s front steps. He lived in a three-million-dollar, single-family home on a posh, tree-lined street in one of the nicest neighborhoods in Chicago.
My “stepmother” Kayla answered the door. “Molly, it’s so good to see you.”
She patted me on the back as we did the obligatory hug.
“You, too.”
“And who’s this?” she asked.
“This is my friend Declan. Hope you don’t mind me bringing him along.”
“Of course not! We have plenty of food.”
“Good to meet you,” Declan said.
I could’ve sworn Kayla gave Declan a once-over. That wouldn’t have surprised me. Anyone who could steal a man from his family has no shame.
“Where’s Siobhan?” I asked.
“Your sister is at her friend’s house. She wanted to see you, but she was invited to a sleepover that started at four. She was torn.”
“Ah,” I said. “Hopefully I’ll catch her next time.”
As much as I would have liked to see my nine-year-old half-sister, I was kind of happy to have my father all to myself tonight. Siobhan was so talkative that no one would have gotten a word in edgewise.
“Your father is in the living room,” Kayla said.
We followed her through the foyer into the house. Dad had been looking out a window and turned when he heard us enter.
He opened his arms. “There’s my beautiful daughter.”
“Hey, Dad.”
As we embraced, I could feel how thin he’d become. His head was bald, but I knew that was because he’d proactively shaved it. But it was still shocking to see.
His eyes moved to my right. “Who’s the guy?”
Declan extended his hand. “Hey, Dr. Corrigan. I’m Declan, Molly’s roommate.”
My father nodded in recognition. “Oh...this is the funny guy you told me about.”
Declan’s eyes widened.
“Shh…” I smiled. “Declan can’t know I talk nice about him.”
“I’m glad he could join us.”
“Me, too, Dr. Corrigan.”
“Please call me Robert, Declan. Can I offer you something to drink?”
“That’d be great.”
We followed Dad into the dining room. The room was adorned with gorgeous crown molding. The old-school architecture of my father’s house was striking. He opened the liquor cabinet, which was a built-in hutch in the corner.
“I’ve got almost anything to suit your fancy. What do you like?”
“A scotch will be great,” Declan said.
“Coming right up.” He turned to me. “And my Molly? What does she want?”
“I’ll just have a white wine.”
He hollered into the kitchen. “Kayla, can you pour Molly some of the white you opened last night?”
“Of course,” I heard her say.
Over a dinner of pasta carbonara that was surprisingly good, considering it was made by a juvenile, my father told stories from my childhood while Declan seemed to enjoy every minute. Kayla just nodded most of the time, which was fine by me. I didn’t want to have to pretend to be enjoying a conversation with her. With my dad, on the other hand, as much as we’d had our troubles, I genuinely enjoyed his company. I’d missed him.
Kayla got up to do the dishes. Declan and I offered to help, but she insisted we stay and talk to my father. With just the three of us in the room again, the tone of the entire evening changed, as if someone had flipped a switch.
“Why did you really come along, Declan?” my father asked. “Is it because my daughter didn’t want to face me alone?”
The room went silent for a few seconds.
My roomie, who never lacked for something to say, looked at me before stumbling over his words. “No, I…”
“Yes,” I interrupted. “I needed his support. I was nervous for so many reasons—scared mainly, because I didn’t want to see you sick. I have a lot of regrets about our relationship, but in the end, you’re still my daddy. I was just afraid, afraid to be afraid.”
“I know,” my father said. After a few moments of silence, he turned to Declan. “Thank you for accompanying her.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“How did you two come to live together?”
Declan grinned mischievously. “She couldn’t resist my charms.”
“Well, that’s not exactly the story,” I said.
“Actually, I got in by default. Everyone else was so godawful, she had no choice but to give in—that and I made her cupcakes.”
“Very resourceful idea.” My father laughed. “How bad could a guy who makes cupcakes be?”
“That was exactly my thinking, Robert.”
“How is my daughter to live with?”
Declan glanced over at me and smiled. “She’s fun, which you wouldn’t immediately know from her rigid organization and rules.”
My father turned to me. “Rigid, huh?”
“She likes everything very neat and organized,” Declan clarified. “But there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s who she is.”
My father’s gaze permeated mine. “That’s not who she always was. When I lived with Molly, I remember her being quite messy and carefree.” He paused. “After I left home, my ex-wife would tell me Molly had become a bit obsessed with neatness and having everything in order.” He looked down at his plate and sighed. “And all I could think was...that’s not Molly at all.” Dad shook his head. “I wondered if her becoming that way had something to do with my leaving.”
I didn’t know what to say. That hadn’t occurred to me, but then I’d never analyzed my behavior.
My father continued, looking straight at me. “My therapist thinks we do certain things to create a sense of order or stability in our life, because those are things we can control. When I left, I turned your entire life upside down.”
I was surprised to learn my father knew about my quirks, but apparently my mother had let him in on more than I realized. I was also surprised to hear he saw a therapist.
“You see a shrink?”
“Yes. I have for some time now. I have a lot of regrets, Molly—about how I handled things with your mother and you girls. And I’m sorry.”
My chest tightened. He should not be beating himself up right now. I tried to reassure him. “We all make mistakes.”
“Mine was quite a mistake.”
It broke my heart that my father was focused on his regrets while battling this illness. He could very well have limited time; he needed to focus on the positive.
“Dad, please don’t worry about the past right now.”
The tension in the air was thick, and I felt Declan’s hand cover mine—not sure how he knew I really needed it.
He squeezed my hand. “If I may say something, Dr. Corrigan…”
My father took a sip of his drink. “Of course.”
“I know you left home when Molly was sixteen, and most of us are who we are as people by that age. You were there for her formative years. That fact shouldn’t be discounted. Sure, you made some mistakes, but your daughter is an amazing, well-adjusted person with a good head on her shoulders and a great career. She’s happy, loves the simple pleasures in life—loves food especially.” He looked at me, and I rolled my eyes. “She’s going to be just fine. And I, for one, am happy to call her my friend.”
Whether Declan’s words were the truth didn’t matter. He knew exactly what my father needed to hear. And I wanted to kiss him right now. Jesus, where did that come from?
“You should go into advertising,” my father joked, knowing full well from our dinner conversation that Declan’s career was in advertising. “But thank you. I’m happy my daughter has someone like you looking after her.”
After a minute, Declan went to use the bathroom.
My father took me into the living room and said, “He’s gay, right?”
I nearly spit out my wine. “What? No! What makes you say that?”
“You’re kidding. He’s not?”
“No. He’s totally hetero.”
“You mean to tell me he talks about you like that and looks at you that way, yet there’s nothing going on and he’s heterosexual?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
“Well, he sure had me fooled.”
I took a long sip. “He’s infatuated with another woman.”
Dad took a moment to ponder that. “I don’t even know that person, but there’s no way she holds a candle to you. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before he sees that.”
“Well, he’s leaving in a matter of months, so...”
My father’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realize that.”
“Yeah. He’ll be heading back to California, where he’s from. He’s only here on a temporary, six-month assignment for work.”
Wow. Somehow thinking about Declan leaving had a much greater effect on me than it had when he’d first moved in. That was really going to suck when the time came.
We stayed for about a half hour more before I went to the kitchen to thank Kayla for dinner and hugged my dad goodbye. All in all, the visit went better than I ever could have anticipated. I made plans with Dad to visit again next week on my own. This would hopefully be the beginning of a fresh start to our relationship.
Once Declan and I got back in the car, I turned to him. “I have a funny story for you.”
“Whatcha got?”
“That whole time, my dad thought you were gay.”
He’d just been about to start the ignition but paused. “Say what?”
“Yes.”
A perplexed look crossed his face. “Do I seem gay to you? You’d tell me, right? Do I give off vibes?”
“No.” I laughed. “He thought you were gay because he couldn’t understand how you and I get along so well, how you could say all those nice things about me, how we could be living together, but not betogether. So, he just assumed.”
“Well, damn,” Declan said as he started the car. “No wonder he was so nice to me. He didn’t see me as a threat. Did you tell him I’m not gay?”
“Of course. I told him you were infatuated with someone else.”
He scrunched his face as if I’d somehow offended him. “Infatuated? I don’t think that’s the right word exactly. I mean, I really like Julia. A lot. But infatuation is a bit much. That makes it sound creepy.”
“When I first met you, you told me you were in love with her. You’re not even with her, and she has a boyfriend. If that’s not infatuation, I don’t know what is.”
“I might’ve exaggerated a little. I was also trying to weasel my way into your apartment and would’ve said anything to peg myself as someone who wouldn’t be interested in sex with you. I should have just told you I was gay.”
I winked. “Apparently my father would have believed it.”
