Page 44 of Keeping Mr. Sweet

“Okay.” He tries to hide the scowl that creases his forehead over my indecision. “A little more.”

His phone rings, breaking up the awkwardness between us while he turns away to answer it. His tone is hushed to start with and I don’t think anything of it, until he clenches his jaw. “She’s been trying to get hold of you for weeks, sir.”

There’s a pause, but my heart rate picks up.

“She needed her father. And if you wouldn’t answer her, I thought maybe you’d at least answer me.”

Did he really call my dad? And Robert actually responded?

“I’ll put her on.” He turns and holds the phone out to me. “You wanted to talk to your father, now you can.”

I stare at his phone. My dad’s waiting for me to answer, when I didn’t actually think he would. Sam pushes it closer as if to say go on. I pick it up tentatively, cradle it to my ear. “Dad?”

“Ashleigh. Why is Stephen Sweets’ son calling me? You know I’m far too busy to deal with your friends.”

“I-I know. It’s just I needed to talk to you about—”

“I’m aware of your indecent behavior if that’s what you wanted to tell me. It’s been brought to my attention. You of all people should know better. But then again, you’ve never cared about reputation or how you hurt other people. I don’t know why I would expect differently.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean for it—”

He sighs loudly, and I imagine he’s checking his watch. “You never do mean it, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re irresponsible and immature. I’m not sure how long you expect me to ignore your actions.”

Sam’s jaw gets harder the longer I stay on the phone. It’s clenched so tightly at this point. I turn my back on him because I can’t stand that he’s upset over my dad’s reaction. It wasn’t unexpected. Still, it’s hard to hear the condemnation in his voice. There’s no disappointment. Only reproach. “I know I screwed up, but—”

“I don’t have time to placate you,” he says. “I’m on my way to dinner with the heads of the Hong Kong division.”

“Dad, please,” I beg. Christ, my voice sounds so whiny to my own ears. “I need to ask you something.”

“If this is about money—”

“No,” I snap. Does he know about Luca’s intentions? Is that what he’s saying? Did Luca contact him directly? But that’s the last thing I want to ask him about now. Taking a deep breath, I ignore the urge to hang up on him. This might be the last conversation I have with him. “I just…tell me something about my mother?”

“About Rachel?” He sounds surprised. A long pause follows where I almost ask him again mainly to find out if he’s still there. Then he exhales slowly as though he’s deflating. “Why?”

“I just need to know something about my mother. We’ve never talked about her.” I need him to tell me about her. I need to know she existed and what she was like. Even if only a little. Something to explain why he is the way he is. “Tell me how you met.”

“Fine,” he says, resigned. “I met her when I was in college. She was waitressing at one of those beach bars in Malibu. The moment I saw her I knew I was going to marry her.”

Tears spring to the corners of my eyes, and I bite my thumb, silently hoping he’ll continue. A chuckle fills my ears. The sound is sad but also filled with memory. It’s so completely different from anything I’ve ever heard from my father.

“She told me it would never happen. That she wouldn’t date a man like me. I wasn’t her type. Too stuck up when she was such a free spirit. But I won her over. Married a year later. We were happy.”

“Was it worth it?” I whisper. I can barely force the words out.

“Was what worth it?” he asks, probably lost in memories that I can never touch.

“Loving her, before I…”

“Yes. It was worth it. I wouldn’t give up a single day we had together before…” His voice changes as we turn full circle back to me. He’s almost businesslike again. “I don’t have any more time to indulge you, Ashleigh. I won’t be late to this meeting.”

“Dad, one more thing…”

“And you can tell your friend that I don’t have time for these calls either. Unless it’s a real emergency.”

He hangs up on me as I say, “I just thought you should know it’s my birthday.”

I stand there with the phone still glued to my ear. Still trying to piece together the man who loved my mother so much it didn’t leave room for anyone else, with the man who could never quite look me in the eye. And it was worth it? He doesn’t regret having loved her. He only regrets me.

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