Make Me - Tessa Bailey Page 0,65
time. Pull the latch, angel. It only takes a second. Do it for me, would you?
How could someone who cared so much leave her stranded in hurt like this? She hated him for it even as her mind attempted to pin a reason on why she hadn’t been enough. Why they hadn’t been enough to make him happy.
Today, she would be enough for herself. She might have an ingrained need to please others, but she’d become a hazard to her own peace of mind. No more. This was her life, and she was done living it for other people. People who were supposed to care about her. Love her.
Abby rapped on the door, the sound echoing in the posh hallway. A few seconds later, a woman in a maid’s uniform opened the door. “Hello. Miss Sullivan?”
“Yes.” The woman stepped aside, and Abby entered the apartment, marveling over how little she recognized in the space. Not one familiar piece of furniture or family photo to be seen. “Is my mother home?”
“Abby.” She turned in time to see her stepmother breeze into the room, elegantly dressed as usual and in the process of ending a cell-phone call. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sullivan,” the maid said, looking between mother and daughter. “The doorman rang, but you didn’t want to be disturbed. I just thought—”
“She just thought since I’m your daughter, my showing up wouldn’t make you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Although that just about sums up how I feel.” Abby swallowed the weakness in her voice. “I came to see my father.”
The older woman smoothed her skirt. “You know his wishes, Abby.”
“Respectfully, Mother? Every moment of my time this past month has been dedicated to his company. Our family’s company. So maybe he doesn’t want to see me, but I’m done giving a shit.”
Satisfied with her stepmother’s dropped jaw, Abby strode toward the staircase, taking them two at a time, not even sure in which room she’d find her father. She’d never even been upstairs. How pathetic was that? The sad realization only reinforced how much of a real home she’d made with Roxy and Honey, unconventional though it might be. It was hers. Guilt for not confiding in her roommates clawed its way up her determination, but she set it aside for now. Fix one thing at a time.
She could hear her stepmother downstairs on another phone call, so she started pushing doors open. Empty bedroom. Bathroom. At the final door, her fingers paused on the knob a beat as she braced herself, before nudging it open. And there was her father, sitting at his computerless desk, playing solitaire . . . with actual cards. He didn’t look up as she entered, quietly finishing his game and gathering the cards together in a neat stack. He didn’t meet her gaze until he’d replaced them in the box, tucking the top into the slot with careful hands.
“Haven’t been able to look at the computer screen,” he said, his usually robust voice reminding her of a deflated balloon. “It takes longer this way, but you appreciate the wins more. The doctor says it’s important to recognize small victories. Learn to be content with them.”
Abby fell into the chair opposite her father, noticing not-so-subtle changes in him. He’d lost weight. Let his hair grow past his collar. But the stress that was usually visible around his eyes and mouth was gone. “That’s good. Is it working?”
“Sometimes.”
She nodded, but he didn’t continue. “Why didn’t you want to see me?”
Her question skipped like a stone in the still room, disrupting the air. Last week, she would have apologized for being so indelicate and taken back the blurted words, but she didn’t have the energy or desire for avoidance any longer. Of any kind.
Her father tapped the box of playing cards against the desk’s surface. “I’m embarrassed, Abby. Every day I wake up and get dressed, positive today will be the day I stop relying on my daughter. Putting her through what I went through.” He dropped the card box and folded his hands. “The truth is, I’m too scared. It’s not an easy thing for a man to admit.”
“Thank you for being honest.” A lump formed in her throat. “It’s okay to be scared.”
He turned his attention toward the window. “Not when it’s hurting your family, the way I’m doing.” His breath came out in a slow exhale. “If there was another way to keep the motor running while I figure