With a cry, I lurched to my feet and raced toward my papa.
“Papa!” I shouted.
He looked up in surprise as I approached.
“Oh, Papa! I thought I’d never see you again,” I cried, throwing my arms around his neck and hugging him hard. “I thought you died! I watched Tristan shoot you. I saw with my own eyes how you crumpled to the ground.”
He patted my back.
“There, there,” he said in a voice as cracked as broken branches.
I paused. The voice didn’t sound like my papa. But it had to be him, it just had to. The resemblance was uncannily similar.
“I should have believed you.” I sobbed into his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have been so willful. You were right about everything, the time travel, everything. I was a fool to not have listened to you. And there’s this crazy demon stalking me now, and I lost my baby, and, oh! I married a wonderful man. Oh, Papa, you would love Roman! He’s everything Tristan was not. He’s noble and principled, strong and honest. He was a gladiator when I met him in ancient Rome.”
Papa kept on patting me over and over.
“Can you believe it? I traveled to ancient Rome. I lived with Roman and his housekeeper for a while and acted unkindly. You wouldn’t have liked the way I acted. You would have scolded me, and you would have been right. I misbehaved when Roman and Amara were only trying to help.”
I kept talking non-stop, telling him practically everything I’d endured over the past few years.
He said nothing and just kept on patting my back.
“I love you so much, Papa,” I choked out. “So much. If I had listened to you, none of this would have happened. It’s possible. I mean, who needs to go through this kind of hell to learn a life lesson? And what’s the lesson I needed to learn? To not attach to anything or anyone? Because that’s what I think. I think I’m destined to be alone, running from Balthazar until he finally kills me once and for all.”
I became aware that the awkward touching on my back had ceased. Papa stood stiffly, his arms by his sides.
“What’s the matter, Papa?” I said, pushing away to look at him.Yep, same weathered, kindly face as always.“Did I say the wrong thing? I couldn’t help it. I’ve gone through so much sorrow I really needed to talk to someone. And here you are in the flesh, standing before me!”
I beamed at him. It was the first smile to cross my face in weeks.
Papa chewed on his lower lip, a gesture I’d never seen him do.
I took a step back.
“I’m sorry, dear. I’m sorry you’ve experienced so much loss and tragedy,” he said, his expression a study of bewilderment.
That seems like the correct thing to say. So why do I feel so confused all of a sudden?
“Thank you, Papa. That means a lot to me.”
“Dear,” he began.
Did Papa ever call me dear? He called me many things like sweetheart; when I was little, he called me his little monkey. But dear?
My face creased in confusion.
“Papa, what is it?” My voice shook.
“I’m sorry, dear, but I’m not your father,” the man said.
“What do you mean?” I drew back. “You look just like him.”
“I’m not. I’m…”
Something crashed through the forest. We both whipped our heads to the side to see who it was.
Marcellious stormed toward me, a stupid smile on his face. “I’m so sorry, sir. This is my wife. She lost her mind when she lost our baby. Olivia, my love, please leave this kindly old man alone. You’ve mistaken him for someone he is not.”
