“Fine. One minute and then you leave.” She glanced at the wall clock. “Starting now.” She reluctantly closed the door and folded her arms.
“Your place looks good,” her father said, looking around. “You’re keeping it nice.”
“Clock’s ticking.”
Then he saw the drawing of the St. Vrain on the wall.
“You draw that?” he asked casually as he pointed at it.
Charlie felt like she’d been gut punched. “Are you being serious right now?” she choked out. An old familiar feeling of panic set in. Memories threatened to overwhelm her. Memoriesof her father ripping up all the drawings Charlie did as a little girl, all the drawings of her mother?—
Hide what you love from him.
“It’s real pretty. You always were a good artist.”
“Time’s up. Get out.” Her voice sounded so small. She felt small. It always happened around her father. It didn’t matter how old she was or how tall she’d grown—Charlie was always the smallest person in the room when her father was in it, too. So she added, “Desmond.”
His eyes flickered with surprise, registering that she’d just used his first name. That gave her a little strength back.
He tried a different tactic. “Louise left me.” He gave her a hang-dog look.
Charlie rolled her gaze to the ceiling and huffed out a breath. “Wife number three, or is it four now?”
“Three. I don’t want another. Too expensive.”
Charlie snorted. “So what does any of this have to do with me?”
His gaze swept around her apartment until it settled on the drawing of the St. Vrain again.
“Need you to come home.”
If Charlie hadn’t closed the door behind her, she would have fallen backward through the doorway. “No fucking way, are you serious? Is that why you had Joey try to find me?”
Her father looked confused. “Joey? I haven’t talked to that little shit in ten years.”
Charlie hid her shock. So Joey hadn’t been working on her father’s behalf?
Desmond continued. “Louise is gone. She took half my money. I’m not in the best of health anymore.”
Charlie just stared at him, knowing what was coming next and still unable to believe it.
“I don’t know how to cook and I don’t have the money to eat out all the time. I can’t hire a housekeeper. You always did all that for us. Who’s gonna take care of me if you don’t come home?” he whined.
“The devil himself, for all I care. Or maybe your worthless sons.”
“Baby girl?—”
Charlie reared back. “Don’t youevercall me that,” she hissed. “Mum called me that.”
“Right up until the day she left you,” Desmond said. “Worthless bitch up and left her husband, her kids.”
“And I can’t blame her.” Charlie gestured at her father. “Look what she had to deal with.”
Staring at her father, at his red, swollen nose, his small, cruel eyes, the bitter frown lines around his mouth, she understood her mother’s choice.
“Can’t believe you’re still taking her side, Charlene. She left you and went and got herself another family. You ever hear from her?”
No.
