He lowered his hand and leaned against the back of the booth. “She’ll be shocked and probably a little angry, but put yourself in her shoes. Wouldn’t you want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me meet her. Sooner, rather than later.”
She looked at him with a determined glint. “Before I agree, you have to promise me one thing.”
“I’ll do anything. I just want to know my daughter.”
“If I let you meet her, you have to be absolutely certain that you want to play the role of dad. I won’t introduce you only to have her hurt when the novelty wears off and you walk away.”
The insinuation ticked him off and he ground his teeth before answering. “Do you really think I’d go through all this trouble to walk away? Or are you forgetting thatI’mthe one who wanted her.”
“I did want her,” she shot back, “and if you ever say I didn’t in front of her, then that’s it, I’ll pull the plug on this.”
He glared at her. “You’ve lost that right. More than that, I would never tellourdaughter something like that which could scar her for life.”
People at tables and booths nearby stared at them with shocked expressions, causing him to realize their voices had escalated to the point they’d captured the attention of the now-full restaurant.
“Let’s get out of here.” He flagged their waitress and paid the bill.
Once outside, he walked Serena to her car. “Think about it tonight and call me tomorrow.”
She shivered—from the cooler air or their encounter he didn’t know. “I can’t make any promises.”
Inhaling deeply, he tempered his response. “Time is short, Serena. This entire situation stinks, but we’ve been given a chance to make it right, or at least as right as it can be at this point before it’s too late.”
Another tremble passed through, visible in her shoulders and arms. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He asked for her phone, then proceeded to store his number. “You might need that.”
“I’m sorry, Lucas.” She opened her door and slipped in the driver’s seat before he could respond.
What had her apology meant? Another one for all she’d done? Or was it pre-emptive for not calling him tomorrow? It would be a long twenty-four hours.
Chapter Eight
Tiny drummers beat their sticks against the inside of Serena’s head on Saturday morning. Instead of sleeping, she’d stayed up the entire night to sort through the last twenty-four hours.
She’d even prayed a few more times, more than she had in the last ten years combined. Though she knew what she had to do, it didn’t make it any easier. She trudged into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, then rummaged in the medicine cabinet for anything to ease the pain in her head.
Pawpaw joined her at the kitchen table a half hour later. “How’d it go yesterday?”
“Not great, but not as bad as I expected.” She hadn’t had a chance to tell him about it before or after they’d gotten their tree, and she was relieved to share with him now.
“I don’t see any bite marks, so that’s good.”
She chuckled at his joke. “I told him about Dad’s threats. I think he understood.”
Pawpaw added another teaspoon of sugar to his coffee. “Goodness, girl, this is strong even to my tastes.”
“I needed the jolt this morning.”
“I heard you rustling all night, but figured you needed time alone to figure it out.”
“He wants to meet her. Like now.” She took a sip of coffee before continuing. “He’s home for three more weeks and wants to use that time to get to know her.”
“How do you feel about that,” he asked in his gentle way.
