The Embrace by Vivian Wood

25

Igo to sleep, anxious about the choice I have to make. When I wake up, Calum is gone. I roll out of bed and check my phone. There is a text message waiting for me from a strange number that can only belong to my father.

How he got my number, I don’t know.

One hundred thousand dollars will be enough to silence me for now. We should meet to exchange banking info and talk about the next steps were going to take as a family.

His text makes my stomach drop like a stone. His apparent greed is utterly baffling to me.

It is evident to me that there is no dollar amount that will pacify my father. I don't know if my dad has any idea whether I'm in contact with my mom or not. In fact, I don't know that he would particularly care either way. But there is a little voice in the back of my head, telling me one thing.

If I intend to carry Calum's child, I shouldn't expect my father to act any differently towards his grandchild than he does to words me. He will belittle my kid, make my kid feel like whatever he's doing is not enough, that he can't possibly ever really win.

Everything my father has made me feel for my whole life.

Thinking about that makes me so sad and angry all at the same time. I take a long hot shower and the whole time, rage builds inside my chest.

I like to think that I have become an expert at forgiving my father and ignoring his bad behavior. But the idea that he would replicate that behavior were when he interacts with my kid… that thought just pushes me over the edge.

I turn off the tap in the shower and stand there for a minute, dripping water and making a decision that has been a long time coming.

I have to cut my dad out of my life. Even if I decide not to have Calum’s child, I will have someone's kid, someday. And my dad has proven to me that he can never change.

My mind made up, I quickly dress and text my dad back.

Let's meet right now. Meet me for lunch at Sullivan’s, one hour.

My dad doesn't respond to the text but I wasn't really expecting a word from him. I put on a little makeup and choose an outfit that really makes me feel in charge, an elegant black pantsuit and a thick gold chain necklace.

By the time I walk into Sullivan’s, an upscale eatery, it's been a little more than an hour. I take my sunglasses off and look around the whole restaurant; my father is sitting at the bar, looking right at me with a hard expression.

I am nervous and shaky inside, but I swan over to my father, a smile plastered on my lips.

“You didn't get a table?” I ask.

He glares at me. “This place apparently only takes reservations for lunch. As I didn't have a reservation, I couldn't get a table.” He looks around with a dour expression. “This place doesn't even seem that great honestly.”

I roll my eyes. “Let me talk to the hostess. I'm sure she can fit us in.”

I turn away and my father calls after me. “I already tried everything…”

When I get up to the hostess stand, I smile evenly at the young girl standing there.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

“Yes, I'm using the Fordham standing reservation. Just two people, for lunch.”

The hostess his eyes widened a little. “Of course, Mrs. Fordham. I'll just check and see which table you should be at…”

I smile blandly at her, not feeling any need to correct her even though she obviously has the wrong idea about my relationship with Calum. She soon leads the way to a big table in the corner of the restaurant, well lit by the two huge glass windows just behind it. I cock a brow at my father as the hostess leads me over there, gesturing for him to follow me.

When we are seated at the table, I push my menu to the side and fold my hands in front of me on the table. I look across the white linen setting to my father, giving him that same bland smile.

My father ignores me, burying his face in the menu. “Is it too early for a drink?”

I repress an eye roll. “I’m sure that the waitress will be happy about you ordering one.”

My dad lets his menu drop a few inches as he casts an eye over me. “You seem like you’re in a hurry. Hopefully not too much of a hurry for a drink.”

I fold my hands in front of me. “I’m not really in the mood. Besides, I’m not even old enough to order any alcohol.”

My dad smirks at me. “Ah, that doesn’t matter. You’re with your father! And daddy wants you to get something expensive.”

I give him a grim smile.

“So?” I say, changing the subject. “You want to talk about money?”

He clears his throat and produces a business card, pushing it across the table at me. I peer down to find a bank account and routing number scrawled across the back.

“That's where you can send it,” my father says. He leans back in his chair, throwing an arm over the back of his seat.

I look up at him, my lips thinning. “I’m not interested in knowing what account you wish was more full. I came here to have a talk with you.”

He has the audacity to look surprised. He leans forward again, his fingers playing with the stem of his water glass. “Oh?”

I look him dead in the eye, my heart fluttering in my chest. But when I speak, it's slow and sure, my voice steady as can be.

“I don't want your banking information. I don't want anything from you, actually. I came here to tell you that as of right now, you can consider our ties severed. I have paid you an exorbitant amount of money by now. And I don't intend to pay you another cent.”

His expression instantly darkens. “You better fucking do what I tell you to do.”

I raise my hand, stopping him mid threat. “I don't want to hear it. From here on out, from the moment that I walk out the door of this restaurant, you can consider me a ghost. You can't call me. You can't find out where I live and show up on my doorstep. We will not have any kind of relationship. You have made it abundantly clear to me that nothing is ever enough. So I am cutting you off and making a new life for myself.”

He gives an astonished scoff. “What? I don't think I heard you correctly.”

I place both my hands on the table, fanning my fingers out. “Enjoy your lunch. It's on me. But that will be the last thing you ever get from me. No more information. No more phone calls. No more text messages. Nothing. I never want to see your face again. Have I made myself clear?”

His face grows redder and redder as I continue my speech. When I am done, he stands up, wrinkling his napkin and throwing it down on the table in front of him.

“This is unacceptable,” he sneers. He leans in closer, pointing at me, spittle flying. “I am your father. You owe me. You'll always owe me. You wouldn't even exist if I hadn't made your mother keep you…”

That gives me pause. Mom was thinking about having an abortion instead of giving birth to me?

It makes sense, honestly. If I had been in her shoes, I might have decided to cut and run instead of letting this monster pull me down.

“You have me to thank for your entire life,” he growls. “All I'm asking for is a little repayment for my hard work raising you.”

I give him a cool smile. “I don't even know if what you just said is the truth or not. Honestly, I don't care. Take one last look at me, because you will never see me again. I am taking care of myself now and part of that is cutting you out of my life forever.” I pause, sucking in a breath. “Goodbye, dad.”

I grab my purse and stand up, turning away. My dad lunges at me and grabs my arm but I shake him off and shoot him a look so venomous that he takes a half step back.

“Kaia…” he utters.

I give him a tiny shake of my head and hurry away, my pulse pounding as I go. I hear him call my name again but I don't look back.

When I step outside, I put my sunglasses on to hide the sheen of tears in my eyes. But I don't look back. I don't second guess myself.

My dad is toxic, and that's not going to change. So I have made my decision and damn if I'm not going to see it through.