staff in the hallway, but they are stopped dead, looking at the door on the far end of the hallway. I know the look people get when my father has been truly nasty, and it’s on every face I see.
The eyes in the hall turn away from me when I meet them, pointing instead at a door down the hall. I hold my chin as high as it will go, and march through the door, gasping at the sight of the overturned desk, its lamp casting light upward from the floor, throwing my father’s form into a strange, demented relief.
“What did you do?” I demand.
“I told your boyfriend what I thought of him.” My father looks at me coldly, his voice breaking in a way I’ve never quite heard before.
I can see beads of sweat on his forehead, and that his hand shakes if he doesn’t continuously grip the arm of his chair. Whatever happened, Sterling scared my father—something I thought no one could do. But whatever satisfaction it might have given me—I’m still a MacLaine, after all—I know it will come with a cost. “You don’t know him enough to judge him.”
“I know more than you. Do you know his record? What he came from?” Inflicting psychological pain is my father’s true joy, and some of his wicked glee seems to return as he hangs on my answer.
“I know what happened to Sterling as a kid,” I say, hoping he doesn’t catch the quiver in my voice. “Hate to break it to you.”
“It’s worse than I thought, then.”
“Meaning?”
“I’ve never understood how someone so smart could also be so stupid.” His eyes dart towards the ceiling, as if he is talking to the heavens. “It means you find all his red flags charming, daughter mine. How you disappoint me. You’re as beautiful as your mother and as headstrong as me, but the second you find a stray dog, you want to bring it home, fleas and all.”
I flinch, not surprised by how he sees Sterling or me. But a cut still hurts even if you see it coming. “And I’ve never understood how you find so much ugliness in everyone else, but not in yourself, father.”
“He is unsuitable for you. A criminal record? A violent temper? I won’t have it. End of story.”
“You don’t control me!” I scream the words at him and instantly regret it. It only serves as proof that I’m some hysterical, weak creature, which is exactly what he wants me to believe, so I measure out what comes next carefully. “I’m not interested in what you think. Sterling gives me what I need, which is more than you’ve ever given me.”
“You’re confusing your wants with your needs. He treats you like you want—but I take care of your needs. Which he cannot.”
“What do you know about my wants and needs?” My father doesn’t recognize other people’s desires unless it suits him. It always reduces to his money. He equates it with everything. He pays for things, therefore no one can complain about him.
“I know he’s gotten you so twisted that you snuck off to screw him at your brother’s wedding. Did you need him then?”
Heat blooms on my cheeks as I remember our perfect tryst, then a knot forms in my stomach as I realize someone must have seen us. A flicker of realization hits me. “It was Ginny, wasn’t it?”
“She saw you hustling down the stairs, looking like you just stumbled out of a hotel room—and she knew.”
“So, she came to you?” The betrayal stings even after my fight with her.
“Of course not. She told her husband.” My father thinks he has me now, so he leans forward, goading me with a smug grin.
For a second I wonder how he got to Sterling, but I push it aside because I’m not finished telling my father what he needs to be told. “If you have something to say about my choices, then take it up with me, not my boyfriend. Stop screwing around with my life. You’ve taken enough from me.”
“Taken? What have I taken? I’ve given you everything you have.” His voice is cold rage. His chest swells, and for a second I swear he will get up out of his chair and try to strangle me.
“You know exactly what I mean. You killed Mom.” I don’t care if he does strangle me. It’s worth it to see his goggling eyes, his suddenly fish-like mouth. “Should I go and get you a nice brandy, father?