Page 135 of Before We Were

Then the doorbell rings.

Jake jumps up, too quickly, muttering about answering it. Lydia glances at Mom, brow furrowed.

"I thought everyone was here?"

Unease coils in my stomach as Jake disappears inside. When I see who stands on the porch, my heart plummets.

Scott Sullivan.

Jake stands beside his father, their features suddenly mirror images. I haven't seen Scott in over two years, and he was never a welcome sight even then. Horror dawns on Lydia's face—she had no idea he was coming.

Which means neither does Nate.

Shit.

"Quite the party you've thrown, Lydia." Scott gestures around before kissing his wife's cheek. Her body goes rigid, a reaction I recognize all too well, though I wish I didn't.

"Scott, I... I thought you were in London."

"Wanted to surprise my boy for his birthday. That okay with you?"

Lydia nods with a forced smile that screams 'absolutely not okay.'

"Can I speak to you inside Scott, please?"

"Sure." His smile is cold, calculated, hiding secrets. "Kat, so sorry to hear about David. He was a good man. And Lenora, happy birthday."

Mom acknowledges his condolences with quiet grace.

Jake returns to our table, and I can't help asking, "Does Nate know your dad is here?"

His expression darkens instantly. "Why does it always have to be about Nate? Can't I invite my own dad to my birthday without him acting out?"

The words sting, but I can't focus on that now. My mind races. Nate's still at Sonder with Nick—he should have been back hours ago. My pulse quickens as I dial his number. One ring, then straight to voicemail.

"You okay?" Marcus leans in, concerned.

I fight to keep my voice steady as I turn to him and Camilla. "Nate doesn't know Scott's here. This... this could be bad. Really bad."

Marcus frowns. "Why?"

"Nate and his dad—it's complicated," I struggle to explain. "Their relationship has been broken for years. Nate's been through hell because of him. If he walks into this unprepared..."

"Glad I'm not the only one with daddy issues," Camilla jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Marcus and Mia exchange worried looks.

"Want us to try calling him?" Camilla offers gently.

Before I can answer, the front door opens. I would know Nate's voice anywhere. He enters alongside Nick, expression neutral at first, until his eyes land on Scott. The air seems to vanish from the space around us. His entire body transforms, tensing for battle. His face hardens, eyes narrowing, and the vulnerable boy from last night disappears, replaced by someone I barely recognize—someone with hatred burning in his eyes.

I stand frozen, watching the storm gather in his expression.

My heart splinters.

All I want is to grab his hand and run. Run far from here. This look in his eyes now—this is why Nate hates his father. This is the part of him I couldn't fully grasp until yesterday, when he finally let me see behind his walls. Scott paces toward where Nate and Nick stand, each step deliberate and casual, as if he hasn't just walked straight into a minefield. The tension radiating off Nate is almost visible, like heat waves distorting summer air.

"Hello, son," Scott says, his voice strained as he tests the waters, softening the blow with that word—'son'—as if it still means something between them. As if he has any right to claim it.

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