"Dad wants to see you in the study," he said, standing awkwardly by the door.
I raised an eyebrow, getting a sinking feeling in my gut. "What's it about?"
Damon shrugged. "No clue. I'm just the messenger.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Isn’t it something that can wait? I have somewhere important I need to be.”
He hesitated, then said, “Dad asked me to bring two glasses and a bottle of wine, so... it might be a long talk."
I groaned inwardly. Wine meant my father was in one of his reflective moods, which usually meant sitting through a conversation I didn’t want to have. But I had no choice. "Okay, thanks."
I glanced at my phone, hesitating. I needed to fix the Kendra situation before the day got away from me. Before heading downstairs, I dialed Jake’s number. It was my only option.
"Yo, T.O.!" Jake’s cheerful voice rang through the phone. "What’s up, man?"
"I need a favor," I said, cutting straight to the point.
"Uh-oh," Jake teased. "This sounds serious."
"Could you talk to Lily for me? Ask her to give Kendra her job back. Tell her it was my fault. I’ll go down to the diner later and explain things myself."
"Wait...this is about that diner thing yesterday, isn’t it? Dude, you’ve got it bad."
“How do you even know about it?”
“Because you’re not as stone-hearted as you think you are. Plus, you’ve been talking about Kendra non-stop.”
I rolled my eyes. "Just do it, Jake. And tell Lily I’ll take full responsibility for what happened."
“Okay, okay,” Jake sighed dramatically. “But first, you gotta admit something to me.”
I groaned, already knowing where this was going. “What?”
“You like Kendra, don’t you?”
“Oh my Gosh! Are we seriously doing this right now?”
“Yep! Admit it, T.O. You’re totally into her. Why else would you care so much?”
“There’s nothing to admit, Jake,” I snapped. “I just feel bad, okay? I don’t like leaving things messy.”
"Uh-huh. Sure. Just make sure I’m invited to the wedding," Jake cackled, and before I could respond, he added, “I’ll take care of Lily for you. Good luck, lover boy!”
I hung up, exasperated, trying to shake off the mix of emotions stirring inside me.
Sliding my car key into the pocket of my jeans, I hurried downstairs toward my father’s study, mentally preparing for whatever conversation awaited me. After knocking lightly, I heard my father’s familiar voice call out, "Antonio, come in."
Stepping inside, I was immediately met with the scent of fine leather and old books, a room that hadn’t changed since I was a kid sneaking in to read his historical volumes. My father sat in his usual spot, sipping wine from a crystal glass, a thoughtful expression on his face as he closed the book he was reading and gestured for me to sit.
“Took you long enough,” he said mildly.
“Sorry, Dad,” I replied, still standing near the door. “Damon said you wanted to talk?”
“Dad, if it’s about your ex-wife and what she proposed, I have already said my piece. And I really don’t want to discuss anything pertaining to that woman any further.”
My tone was almost flat, except for the hint of anger in it. The call I had received at the bar that was responsible for my foul mood and the incident with Kendra had been about her – my mother… although I refused to address her, as that.
This woman who abandoned her husband and child and almost milked them broke, only to come back years later asking to be forgiven and let back into our lives just because she had hit rock bottom was no mother of mine.
