He leans in and lowers his voice. “I’m your father.”
I stare at him.
Then I go back to wiping down the bar. “Right.”
I’ve had so many lies spewed at me. This, by far, is the one taken the farthest. The audacity.
“Marina,” I call without acknowledging this asshole. “I’m out. Travis here?”
“Just got here,” she calls. “Have a good night.”
Travis steps up, and I nod at him and turn to leave. Footsteps follow me. Of course they do. These people are relentless.
“How is Carly?” the man asks behind me.
I spin so fast, I almost see red and step into his space. “I don’t know who you think you are,” I grit out. “But leave me alone.”
“I’m your father,” he says calmly. “It’s true.”
The words hit me in the gut like a punch.
“Prove it,” I grit out, glaring at him. But he is my height and has dark hair like mine. But that means nothing to me because my cousin Remy and I look alike, so I always thought I took after my mother’s side.
“I met your mother while my family vacationed here for the summer. We were young and dumb. I went off to college. That’s it.”
He says it like he didn’t just abandon my mother. Cast her aside like she was garbage. Like he left his sweater behind at his vacation villa.
Like she had a choice in the matter and wasn’t just left pregnant and alone at eighteen.
The fucking audacity of this man. But I let him continue because if he is who he says he is, I want to know why. I have always wanted to know why.
“I always wondered what happened to her,” he continues.
“What happened to her?” I echo. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
He shrugs. “When she said she was pregnant, it was too much for me. I was headed off to college. I told her to get rid of it but I see that she didn’t.”
Get rid of it. Get rid ofme. Wow.
“What’s your name?”
“Neil Harrington.”
Harrington. “Like the Harringtons of Harrington Holdings?”
He looks taken aback. “Yeah. How did you know that? I mean...I guess you’re married to a Montclair, but I didn’t realize you knew about my family.”
My family. That’s laughable. As if we don’t share the same DNA.
“Sometimes I wish things had worked out differently,” he says, almost thoughtfully. “You could have had more opportunities as a Harrington than being a bartender in Coconut Beach.”
My vision narrows. And he continues. I’m seething.
“Although I do think it’s funny you ended up married to one of my family friends. I do business with the Montclairs. We’re competitors, I suppose. But I’ve known them a very long time.”
“You are such a piece of shit,” I bite out.
He sighs. “I did what I thought was best. I was a kid too, you know.”
