Page 61 of Bombshell

“And the father?” he asks. “Does he know?”

Felix knows the truth. He’s been watching. He will have pieced everything together. But that means, so will my father. That only leaves me one choice.

“I don’t know who the father is,” I lie. “I’d really rather not waste time trying to figure it out. It will be embarrassing—for all of us.”

“Don’t you think he should know? Whoever he is?” His challenge is mild, but I recognize it.

“No guy I know will want a baby,” I say flatly. I squash the memory of the dream back into some dark, unvisited part of my mind. That’s all it was: a dream. Sterling isn’t here. If he hadn’t left, he’d probably have disappeared after I told him. He didn’t even bother to say goodbye. In the end, he gave up. He let Angus MacLaine scare him out of town. He let me stay angry instead of confronting me to explain his side of the story. He didn’t even put up a fight.

“But you still want her?”

He sees what I’m hiding. The question is will he keep it a secret for me? “I love her. I don’t need to understand why. I just do.”

“Then, I will make certain your wishes are respected, but, Adair, you know there will be consequences.”

“I know.”

Outside the door there’s a sudden fluster of activity and for a moment, I think there must be an emergency, until I hear a familiar booming voice shouting orders.

“Are you ready? I can tell him you’re sleeping,” Felix offers.

“It’s okay.” There’s no sense putting this off. It won’t change anything. My father won’t have a sudden epiphany and grow a heart overnight. I was always going to have to face this day. At least, Felix is here. It’s not quite as lonely as I feared. He squeezes my hand just as the door flies open. He storms inside, an annoyed Dr. Thompson at his heels. It’s the first time I’d seen my father on his feet since he began physical therapy after his own accident. I’d heard he was walking, but I didn’t know what to expect. Despite the physical presence he’s always projected, there’s a hitch in his step, a slight tremor shaking his body, and he leans heavily on a polished black cane with a silver wolf as its handle.

“Why wasn’t I called?” he demands. “I told you to let me know if there was any change.”

“This is quite extraordinary,” Dr. Thompson says, rising rather than shrinking to his intimidation. “We were seeing to your daughter’s medical care—a much higher priority than making a phone call. You would have been informed when time allowed.”

“I imagine you’ll find time to cash and spend my check,” he growls, before turning and pointing his cane at Felix. “You were under strict instructions—”

“He just got here,” I cry out. “He was just telling me that he was about to call you.”

This successfully redirects my father’s rage away from Felix, but not in the way I expect. He turns his dark, beady eyes on me and shakes his head, disgust curling his lip. “Why would I believe a thing you say to me? My lying, slut of a daughter!”

“Mr. MacLaine!” Dr. Thompson steps forward. “I don’t care if you bought this hospital. No patient here will be treated like that by a visitor. Get a hold of yourself or you will be escorted off the premises.”

“Why don’t we ask your board if they’ll support that stance?” he suggests. “I think you’ll find I can speak to my daughter any way I damn well please.”

“I think you’ll find that I am always true to my word,” she spits back, not showing any signs of being flustered. “Control yourself or leave. Those are your options. There are no more choices available for purchase or otherwise.”

He considers for a moment before finally lowering his cane. “I’d like to speak with Adair alone.”

“I don’t think—”

“It’s fine,” I cut in before she can save me once more. I’d always expected his ugliness. I’d run from it before, but I can’t run from it forever. I need to stand and face it. It’s the first step in claiming what I want.

Felix casts a concerned look in my direction as they leave the room, and I manage to force a grin. He doesn’t look any more reassured.

Dr. Thompson pauses at the door. “There is a call button on your bed. If you need a nurse for any reason, please don’t hesitate.”

When the door closes, neither of us speaks. Daddy clutches his cane. I wonder how much he hates needing it. He’d treated rehabilitation therapy like a hostile takeover. I’m not surprised he managed to prove the doctors wrong. MacLaines are stubborn like that.

“You’re walking,” I say to break the silence, hoping to direct the conversation in any other direction than me.

“You’re pregnant,” he says flatly.

Well, that didn’t work the way I intended.

“I am.” There’s no point in trying to change the subject now.