Page 21 of Possessive Mafia Vows

The server comes to the table to take my drink order, and I ask for water.

“How have you been?” my dad asks when the server has walked away.

Um, I’ve been alone since Mom died. Struggling to make enough money to pay the rent. Or how about undergoing more surgeries than I can remember, to repair the burns I suffered in a car accident one fateful New Year’s Eve.

“Fine.” I can’t meet his eyes.

“Sweetheart.”

Fucking sweetheart?

Anger starts to creep in, slowly replacing the anxiety triggered by his reappearance.

He isn’t here to apologize; he is probably unaware that he has anything to apologize for. He’s here because he thinks that popping up uninvited into my inbox and calling me sweetheart will erase the years he’s been missing and give him a fresh start. I don’t for one second believe that this has anything to do with me, unless he wants a piece of my gallery.

Well, I’d like to see him fucking try.

“What do you want?” I ask.

We’re not the only people in the restaurant this lunchtime, but it feels as if I’m trapped inside a bubble with him, one that I needto pop as quickly as possible so that I can escape before he seals it.

He swallows a mouthful of his drink. Is it whiskey? Dutch courage. Not that men like my father need it—they’re bullies, and bullies only ever pick on people who are weaker than they are.

“I wanted to see you. I know I’ve not been a part of your life, and I don’t expect to waltz back in and pick up where we left off.”

Thank fuck for that.

“But, well…” Tears well in his eyes. “…I’ve realized what I’ve been missing. I know I can’t turn back the clock, but it isn’t too late to put things right. Is it?”

The server returns with my glass of water, eyes up the untouched menu, and backs off again.

I raise my eyes; I need to see this. “How?”

The frown lines across his forehead deepen, his eyebrows lower. He looks genuinely perplexed, as if he expected to say, “Surprise! I’m back!” and receive my undying gratitude while we do some sightseeing and catch up on old times.

“How will you put things right?” I repeat.

“I thought we could spend some time together, you know. Get to know one another.” His voice is infuriatingly calm, placating, like he’s talking to a six-year-old who doesn’t understand what they’ve done wrong. My shoulders bunch up tighter with every word. “I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”

“Hell, no!” The words are out in the open before I can stop myself, and I hear the chair legs scraping the floor as I standup. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to sit there and call me sweetheart, and you certainly don’t get to tell me that you’ve missed me.”

“Sienna, I…” He shakes his head; his bottom lip is still rolled out like a petulant child. “I know I fucked up.”

“You don’t say!” My chest is heaving. I know the people sitting at the other tables are probably gaping at us, but I’m past caring about what anyone else thinks. “You didn’t at any point over the last twenty years wonder how I was? Didn’t it occur to you to pick up the phone and call me? Or maybe apologize to Mom for what you did to her?”

He nods and sniffs loudly, twisting his nose from side to side. “I know I should’ve, Sienna. You can’t tell me anything I haven’t already figured out for myself. I was a selfish asshole. I’ll hold my hands up to that.” He shows me his palms to prove the point. “I wanted to see you. I don’t expect you to believe me, but I did. I just … didn’t think your mom would allow me back into your life.”

His voice is clogged with emotion, but something inside me, the tiny piece of my heart that was probably afraid to let go of my father, solidifies. I feel it resting deep inside me like a pebble on the riverbed.

“You still can’t do it, can you? You still can’t accept responsibility for your actions and say sorry.”

“I…” Brown eyes blink back at me. “Sit down, sweetheart. Please?”

I sit heavily in my seat. Not because it’s what he wants but because the adrenaline pumping through my veins is making mefeel lightheaded, and I refuse to let him see how his presence is affecting me. I will not give him that.

I swallow a mouthful of water and instantly feel it trying to eject itself from my trembling body. “I’m listening.”

“Despite what you think of me, there hasn’t been a day go past that I haven’t thought about you.”

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