Page 74 of Accidental Dad's Best Friend

There’s a beat. And then,

“Izzy?” I hear a sliver of something soft in his tone. But just as quickly as it came, it’s gone again. “What do you want? Money? A job? Forgiveness? All of those things are a long shot, by the way.”

“I want to talk,” I state with my chin held as high as I can manage. I keep my voice steady too. One, because I don’t want Jax to know I am upset. I want his little eyes to stay locked onthat screen. And two, because I will not allow myself to show my dad that I am vulnerable.

“So talk.”

“No. I want to talk in person.”

He lets out an irritated sigh into the phone and I can literally see the annoyance on his face. “I’m a busy man, Izzy. I don’t have time for whatever–”

“I am headed to your office now.”

He stops. Another pause. Then he sucks the air through his teeth. It’s a thing he’s always done. When he has something to say. When he’s already said something and wants it to be the last word.

“You’re stubborn. Like your mother was.”

It’s a passive aggressive comment. There’s guilt behind it. Any time she comes up in conversation, which isn’t often, there is always guilt woven in. I know he blames me for her being gone. And it pains him to see resemblance in us.

“I want you to meet me there,” I tell him. There is no emotion in my voice.

“It’s been five years,” he states.

Six. Almost seven, honestly. But who’s counting? Not me. I stopped years ago.

“Dad. I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important. Very…important.”

I say the word knowing it’s as hard for him to hear it as it is for me to say it. Knowing that despite feeling foreign, unnatural even, that is who he is to me. And neither of us can change that.

He sniffs and his jaw clicks. “I’ll be there in ten. But this needs to be quick. The next issue of NBT hits the racks tomorrow and I can’t be distracted.”

The line goes dead and for the first time, I take a breath and let it out. My whole body is shaking and a few salty, hot tears burn the back of my eyes. I blink them away and glance in theback seat. Jaxon is glued to his show, one small hand holding his tablet and the other stroking his stuffy.

He’s so small. So pure. So innocent in all of this. And it’s all my fault. That’s why I need to protect him, whatever that looks like. And right now, despite all of my worst fears being a possibility, I know that coming clean about him to my dad is step number one. Maybe, just maybe, if he knows this truth first and has time to process it, the blow of what is coming won’t turn him into a complete monster. At least one can only hope.

I get out of the car and find the office lit. He must already be inside. Jax and I step in, his hand in mine. “Wow,” he whispers. “This is a big office.”

We are only in the foyer. The secretary's desk is in front of us and next to that is a giant fish tank. Jaxon’s hand pulls from mine and he walks over to it, his eyes trailing up to the ceiling. “Look at all the fish, mommy.”

I smile shakily. Down the hall I can see another light. My dad’s office. I walk over to Jax and kneel down, pulling him to face me. “Listen, buddy. I need to go talk to someone for a minute, okay? You look at the fishes and stay right here. Promise?”

He nods and I smile again, kissing him on the top of the head before making my way down the hall. I pass several other doors, all closed, including conference rooms and the editor's office. Just before I get to the one that I know belongs to my dad, I stop. Ethan’s office is the last on the left. The door is closed, lights off. He must have left already. Home probably. I swallow hard, running my hand over the metal name tag on the door. Then I keep going.

My dad is sitting at his desk staring up at me with steepled hands. Jesus. I am his daughter and this is not a businessmeeting. But he likes to feel powerful, in any exchange, and sitting behind that desk makes him feel that way.

“Izzy,” he greets me formally, with a nod and a once over. “You look…tired.”

Jab number one. I already have an invisible force field around my feelings because this man has never made a point of tip-toeing around them. If anything this is like a game of darts for him. He’ll start with the edges and work his way inward until eventually hitting a bullseye.

“And you look like you.” My lips curve and so do his. I fucking hate that I got my smile from him. His smile, his eyes and his ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude. The latter isn’t so bad, it’s the only reason I can stand my own with him. It’s how I’ve survived.

Now hopefully I keep surviving.

“It’s been a while, Izzy.” He leans back in his seat and pulls a bourbon bottle out of his desk. “Drink?”

“I’m good.”

“You don’t like whiskey?”

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