Flock

“Only people with a pulse.”

He chews his food slowly and looks at me pointedly. “My blood is red, I assure you. It’s the same blood that runs through your veins.”

“I’m nothing like you.”

“You have one sharp tongue.”

“Don’t pretend to care, Roman. Why make me a part of all this at the last minute if you really didn’t want me in your life? Why give me anything at all, if you could just write a check and be done with me?”

He slowly lifts his tumbler to his lips and takes a sip. “Maybe I have regrets on how I handled things with you.”

“Maybe?”

“I do.” He sets his glass down and presses his napkin against his mouth. “Excuse me. I have business.”

“Great talking to you, Sir.”

I’m most definitely about to start my period, and I’m sure this shark smells it. I would feel bad if it wasn’t Roman Horner on the receiving end of my attitude. But tonight, I’m over the bullshit pretense.

He pauses at the doorway and then turns to me. He waits until our eyes co

“Did you love my mother?” I ask hoarsely, damning the budding emotion. “Have you ever loved anyone?”

He grimaces, his eyes fixed somewhere in the past as he stares through me. “I tried.” With that confession, he leaves me at the table.

I do my best to ignore the sting behind my eyes and the tear that falls because of it. That was it. I know it in my soul. That will be the one and only confession my father ever gives me about the way he feels about me.

After years of wondering, I finally have my answer.

He tried.

My father just admitted he didn’t love me.

I pull the tear from my face with my finger and study it. Roman Horner probably would have preferred an abortion to an heir, and he thinks an inheritance will redeem him in some fucked up way.

I smash the hope-filled tear I didn’t know I was harboring between my fingers and finally give myself permission to hate him. Just more proof that the fantasies of a masochistic heart are much better than any experience with the real thing.

With that knowledge, I retreat.