I Married a Billionaire: The Prodigal Son (Contemporary Romance) (10 page)

Mr. Thorne steepled his fingers together. “I think that’s fair.” He took a deep breath. “When I left, I really thought I was never coming back. I thought you - you and your sister - would be better off without me.”

Daniel’s lip was twitching like he wanted, badly, to sneer a little. I laid my hand on his arm.

“I’d reached a point in my life,” his father went on, “where there didn’t seem to be any way to go on I realized I was too much of a coward to kill myself. But if I faked my death, I could go on. I could start over. I could set out and make a new life for myself, and I wouldn’t have to keep thinking about all the mistakes I’d made.”

He paused, letting out a long breath and unlacing his fingers. “I wasn’t really…thinking rationally.”

“You don’t say,” Daniel muttered.

“But back then, it did seem like the solution. Not a good one, but a solution. There are no good solutions to that kind of situation, I don’t think.”

He looked up at us for a moment, as if seeking some sort of validation. Daniel just looked at him as if he’d landed from another planet.

“Of course I regret it now,” Mr. Thorne said. “Looking back on it, it’s hard to believe that person was me. I’d never make a decision like that now. Not in a thousand years. But the fact of the matter is that I did once, and now I have to deal with the consequences of that decision.”

“And what are those consequences, exactly?” Daniel asked, very softly.

Mr. Thorne cleared his throat. “Missing so many years with my son and my daughter,” he said, his voice sounding just slightly strained. “And of course, the possibility that neither one of you is going to want to be around me. I wouldn’t blame you, but it would mean I’ve made the kind of mistake I can’t come back from.” He paused for a moment. “And that…that, I don’t know how I would face.”

“If you’re trying to send me on a guilt trip…” Daniel started.

“I’m not.” Mr. Thorne looked up from the table again, and I swore that his eyes looked slightly misty. “Do you remember that Christmas you wanted the remote control car?”

“Yes,” said Daniel, tightly.

“I was so proud of you,” he said. “Because you didn’t cry. I thought - I thought you were going to grow up into exactly the kind of man I wanted you to be.” He swallowed, audibly. “You have no idea how many times I’ve cried like a little girl since I left. I’m not ashamed to admit it, anymore.”

Daniel made a small noise - I couldn’t tell if he was touched or disgusted, or possibly some mixture of both. “And did I?” he said, his voice still flat and emotionless.

“Are you asking me if I’m proud of you?” said Mr. Thorne. “Of course I am.”

Sitting quietly next to Daniel, watching the two men talk, I didn’t know what to make of this at all. I knew that my own parents had a remarkable ability to say whatever they felt like they needed to say to get back into my good graces, if I ever got really angry with them - only to go back to their old ways as soon as things settled back down. I wondered if that was happening here, if Daniel, at least, suspected it was going to happen. But it was impossible to say, wasn’t it? After a man fakes his own death and disappears for years, who can say how his state of mind might change?

This whole thing was more than a little surreal.

There was so much simmering under the surface that I could hardly concentrate on their words anymore. Mr. Thorne started asking Daniel about his life, many questions to which he must have already known the answers, but Daniel answered. He was short, and cold, but he answered.

“And how about you?” Mr. Thorne said suddenly, turning to look at me with his piercing green eyes. I suddenly felt like I was being cross-examined.

“I…how about me?” I repeated, stupidly. I couldn’t remember what he’d said last.

“Well, let’s start at the beginning. How did you two meet?”

I hesitated. We had a carefully-rehearsed story for this, but I actually wasn’t sure if Daniel intended to tell his father the truth about us. That we had, in fact, once been married purely for the sake of a green card.

When Daniel didn’t volunteer anything after a few moments, I decided now wasn’t the time.

“We met at work,” I said. “I was a graphic designer for Plum.”

Mr. Thorne raised his eyebrows. “Oh,” he said. “That’s…impressive.”

Something about his tone rubbed me the wrong way. I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I pushed forward.

“At first we kept it a secret because of the, you know, the whole workplace ethics issue. The conflict.” He was looking at me blankly, and it occurred to me that he was from a generation where men nailed their secretaries without a second thought to the ethics of the situation. “Anyway, after a while we decided we were serious, so we started dating publicly. And after that, it was all a big whirlwind.” I smiled a very practiced smile. I knew he must have already heard this story too, but for some reason, he wanted me to tell him.

“That’s wonderful,” he said, and there was something behind his words that I didn’t quite understand. “I’m very…” he paused, looking from one of us to the other and then back again. “I’m very, very glad that Daniel found someone he could settle down with. Back in the day, I thought it would never happen.”

“Most people don’t ‘settle down’ at nineteen,” said Daniel, quietly. “Which, if I recall correctly, is about when you started lecturing me about my lack of a steady girlfriend.” There was a tense silence of a moment, then he managed a wan smile. “But as you can see, all that’s changed now.”

“I
can
see that,” Mr. Thorne replied. “What made you change your mind, kiddo?”

My husband winced at the nickname, but I could see that Mr. Thorne only used it out of habit. He wasn’t actually trying to be condescending. He didn’t have to.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s hard to quantify, isn’t it?”

“If you say so,” said Mr. Thorne. He looked at me, smiling a smile that unnerved me for a reason I couldn’t explain. “You know, my dear, I don’t think we were introduced properly.”

“I guess not,” I said.

“My name’s Walter,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about me. But I hope you’ll let me have a fresh start to make a first impression.”

You’re not doing well so far.

“Sure,” I said, smiling at him. “Absolutely.”

“So,” said Walter. “You must have quit working for Plum.”

“Officially,” I said, glancing at Daniel. “From the amount of product testing I do, though, you wouldn’t think so. Except for the fact that I don’t get paid.”

Walter chuckled. “That’s my Daniel. Put her to work. Other than your grueling duties, how do you like being a housewife?”

I felt my mouth twist of its own accord.

“Actually,” I said, “I do a lot with my art right now. I’ve been going to shows, and last month I got a job illustrating a short story for Corwind.” He looked at me blankly. “It’s a literary magazine,” I added.

“Oh,” he said, smiling. “Well, that’s very nice.”

“I’m going to have to tell Lindsey, you know,” said Daniel after a lull.

Walter shrugged. “Tell her she’s welcome to call,” he said. “Come up and see me, maybe.”

We parted a short time later with vague promises to meet again. Walter passed Daniel a little piece of hotel stationery with his phone number scrawled on it, and they shook hands before Walter turned and walked away.

“Well,” I said a few minutes later, just to cut through the silence. “At least he didn’t ask you for money.”

***

“So,” said Daniel, after he and his sister had exchanged pleasantries. “Here’s the thing. Are you sitting down?”

“Oh my God,” I heard her chirp through the phone. “It’s
true
, isn’t it? Congratulations! I mean, I know you didn’t necessarily - but - it’s good, right? Congratulations, Danny. Let me talk to her.”

“No, no,” said Daniel, once she gave him a chance to cut in. “It’s not about that.”

There was a confused silence on the other end.

“I’m serious,” said Daniel. “Are you sitting down?”

“Yes,” Lindsey snapped. “What the hell’s going on?”

He started wandering farther away, but I could still hear his end of the conversation, at least. “Let me preface this by saying I know it sounds insane, and I didn’t believe it at first either. I wouldn’t believe it, unless I’d seen him with my own eyes. But Dad…” He hesitated for a moment here, is if he, too, were still just barely able to come to terms with the reality of it. “Dad’s alive.”

I could hear the volume of the noise that Lindsey made, but I couldn’t distinguish if there were any words involved.

Daniel winced, pulling the phone away from his ear. “I just met him in the park. He saw that article, about Maddy. I guess he didn’t want to risk never getting to know his theoretical grandchild, so he went to one of the journalists I’ve worked with and she passed it along.”

He was silent for a while after that, so that all I could hear was the long string of incoherent squawking on the other end of the phone.

“I suppose he felt like it was the one way out,” he said, finally “He told me he…he felt like we would be ‘better off without him.’ He thought he could get a fresh start. I don’t know. You’re more than welcome to talk to him yourself. I have his number.”

More squawking, punctuated by the occasional assenting noise from Daniel.

“Well, I agree,” he said, finally. “But there it is. You can do what you will, I just thought you should know.”

She went on for a while longer, while Daniel just sat and nodded. There wasn’t much you could say about this situation, really. I felt incredibly sorry for him. As comfortable as was with Lindsey, this had to be a cringe-inducingly horrible conversation to have with anyone.

“I don’t know,” he said, after a long time. “Lindsey, I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him if you really want to know.” A pause. “Well, I don’t blame you, but those are your only options. I can’t read his mind.” Another pause. “I know that. You think I don’t know that? I wanted to punch him when he tried to imply that he left for our own good. I don’t know how much of his own bullshit he actually believes, but if you want answer you’re going to have to prepare yourself to hear something like that.”

Even being in the same room with his conversation was making me uncomfortable, but I couldn’t walk away, knowing it was happening. I chewed on my thumbnail, ears straining to pick up Lindsey’s words but not wanting to make my eavesdropping obvious by coming closer.

“No, not one bit,” Daniel was saying. “Not as far as I can tell. I don’t know what he’s been doing for all these years, but I guess it didn’t involve any serious soul-searching.” A longer pause. “Does that really surprise you?”

By the time he finally hung up, he looked exhausted and ashen. I got up then, and came to sit next to him at the kitchen island. I rested my hand in the middle of his back and rubbed it lightly.

“Is she okay?” was the only thing I could think to ask.

“She’s angry,” said Daniel. “But yes, she’ll be fine. She just has to come to terms with the idea. I was eased into it, she’s trying to swallow the whole thing at once.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“She resents him, more than I do, I think.” It always surprised me when Daniel spoke with this kind of raw honesty, even though it wasn’t all that unusual - it just always felt so out of character, because he would often avoid and skirt around conversations he didn’t want to have. But when he was ready to talk, he really
talked
. “He was harder on me, certainly, because - you know. I was the
son
.” He smiled humorlessly. “But Lindsey, she was actually the more ambitious of the two of us. She had to be. Dad never once acknowledged how driven she was, how she would never let anyone look down on her. He never sat her down and told her to act like a lady, but he didn’t need to. He was always telling her in so many subtle ways. It infuriated her. Thankfully, she’s even more stubborn than I am.” He smiled. “But she’s never let go of that feeling. That he never appreciated her, or that he tried to undermine her. I think if she saw him today she’d probably just start yelling for an hour or two, and never stop.”

“Maybe that’s what he needs,” I said. “Kind of a…shock therapy.”

“Or actual shock therapy,” said Daniel. “Let’s not rule out any possibilities prematurely.”

Eight

After the phone call with Lindsey, we spent a few days not talking about it. The problem was, if we couldn’t talk about
that
, we couldn’t really talk about anything. It was the only thing either one of us wanted to talk about, or
could
talk about, or could even think about. Our evenings were filled with heavy, conspicuous silences. After a few years of living with someone, a day of silence is the strangest thing you can imagine. When I finally went down to get the mail and had to say hello to one of my neighbors, I was shocked at the sound of my own voice, rough with disuse.

I don’t mean, of course, that we literally didn’t speak. We said good morning to each other and exchanged other pleasantries, but I think we were afraid to take it any further. I tried to think of a light, non-confrontational way to bring up the only topic we really cared about, but everything sounded trite.

So, are you going to meet your dad again?
How could I possibly drop it so lightly? There was absolutely nothing I could say that would even begin to address all the thoughts that were running around in circles in my head.

To escape the oppressive silence, I retreated to my studio. But every time I sat down to draw, all I could think about was the gallery closing. If someone had asked me to name the five most important things in my life, I doubt I ever would have thought to name the gallery. But now that I knew it would shortly be gone, I felt the loss acutely.

And then, of course, there was the slight matter of me being pregnant.

I almost wanted to laugh at how absurd it was, to be dealing with all of this at once. I knew that “when it rained, it poured,” but really? This? This was a monsoon.

Of course at times I scolded myself for being melodramatic. Two of the major life-changing events I was dealing with were positive things - weren’t they? We were starting a family, and reconnecting with one that Daniel thought he’d lost. The closing of one small art gallery hardly compared to that. So why was my stomach in knots?