My dad pushed my hand away, stood from the couch, and went to the bar at the other end of the room, where he poured himself a fresh drink. I knew his doctor had said my dad wasn’t supposed to be drinking excessively, but I kept my mouth shut. The only thing I wanted in this moment was to get him to admit that he had fathered an illegitimate child.
After draining half the glass, he turned his attention back to me.
“Jesus, Tori. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” he ranted. “I’m in the middle of an election, for Christ’s sake! How could you possibly think it was a good time to approach me about something like this?”
He was visibly sweating, a light sheen on his forehead, and he looked exhausted. Not for the first time, I thought to myself how much he seemed to have aged over the last few months.
“This isn’t about your career,” I said. “I just want you to do the right thing.”
“You’re going to ruin my life!” he shouted at me. Then he pointed at Anja. “This is all your fault, you conniving whore.”
Stefan stepped between my dad and Anja and me, shielding us from his unchecked rage.
“I suggest you calm down, Senator,” Stefan said, his voice steely calm.
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” my father spouted. “I’m going to have all your asses thrown in jail! I’m invincible! I have friends in the Department of Justice!”
So did we. But my father didn’t know anything about that yet.
I’d never seen my dad so angry before. He was leaning back against the bar, his heavy breaths becoming ragged. It looked like he was struggling for air. Was it a panic attack?
“Dad?” I cried out, starting to move toward him.
Suddenly he fell to the ground, his hands clutching his chest.
Tori
Chapter 23
Even though I was wearing a sweater, I couldn’t stop shivering as we sat in the hospital waiting room, my ass already numb from sitting so long in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Hours had passed, and I hadn’t seen my father since they’d loaded him into the ambulance outside his condo, his face covered with a mask, his limp body strapped to a gurney.
Anja had been the one to call 911 as I had knelt beside my father’s prone body, my hands reaching for his, trying to find a pulse. But I had been in too much shock to be any kind of help, and Stefan had his hands full trying to calm me down and pull me away from my dad. The EMTs had arrived quickly, but everything after that was a complete blur. I didn’t even remember getting into the car with Stefan and Anja.
My husband had already called my stepmom, and she was on her way, speeding here in her little roadster. The drive from Springfield was a long one. Still, she should be here any minute. I looked forward to Michelle’s comforting southern accent, her soothing words.
“You hanging in there okay?” Stefan asked softly, his eyes full of concern.
I offered a weak smile. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I still love him, even after everything he’s done. I never got a chance to tell him that.” My voice broke.
“He knew you loved him,” my husband assured me, passing me a few tissues.
“All families fight,” Anja added. “The love remains.”
She was sitting across from us, trying to read the same trashy celebrity gossip magazine that had been in her hands since we got here, her gaze unfocused. We were all shaken by what had happened, and had settled into silence after we arrived at the hospital. Surely I wasn’t the only one who feared that confronting my father had been what triggered his second heart attack. He was in surgery now, the nurse at reception had told me. She had no other news.
We were coming up on hour number four.
I didn’t know what to do with myself. There was a TV in the waiting room but it was on mute. Whenever I glanced up, my eyes were so teary I couldn’t even read the closed captions.
Glancing over at the reception desk, I searched the faces of the nurses, as if their expressions could tell me something. As if they weren’t handling dozens of other cases, as if they were even thinking or talking about my dad at the moment. I hated all this waiting. The not knowing. The déjà vu was strong. It felt like I had just been here with him during his last heart attack. I was a mess.
Despite the fact that I was still mad at him, this wasn’t how I wanted my dad to go, with both of us up in arms with each other. I prayed I’d get another chance to talk to him and tell him how I felt, despite all his flaws and past mistakes. I also prayed he’d have the chance to do right by Anja and Max—not because he thought it was the only way to avoid blackmail or litigation, but because he chose to. Because he wanted to do the right thing. Maybe he’d even want to be an active part of Max’s life, as I did.
My stomach twisted as I remembered how he had hit the floor. My shaking fingers hadn’t been able to find a pulse, but I could still remember how cold his skin had felt. The whole thing kept replaying in my mind like a horrible movie that I couldn’t turn off.
I watched a doctor stop at the nurse’s station and I straightened, somehow knowing in my gut that this woman had information about my father. Sure enough, the nurse gestured to where we were sitting. I held my breath as she approached, adjusting the lapels of her white coat.
“Are you Senator Lindsey’s family?” the doctor asked. She was older, exuding calm competency, with a regal bearing and a kind face etched with wrinkles and deep laugh lines.
