I open the door and there he stands. Robert Henderson in all of his bastard glory.
"Hey there!" He says enthusiastically.
"Hi Dad," I groan. Why did I agree to this, again?
I open the door and let him in. Noah is standing in the living, anxious as ever.
"You must be the new boy." My dad walks over to him and pushes his hand out. Noah grabs it and shakes hard. He is good at covering his nervousness. He knows he has to act tough around my father.
"The name's Noah, sir."
"Sir?" He looks back at me, impressed. He turns back to him and smiles from ear to ear.
"My name is Robert but you can call me Rob."
"Can I take your coat, Mr. Henderson?" Noah asks, politely.
"Why sure!" He says as he pulls his jacket off and lays it in Noah's outreached hand.
"And it's Rob," he corrects.
"So what's new with you, Kitten?" He looks at me.
"Other than Noah, nothing much." Noah looks at me in confusion. He was expecting me to tell him about my pregnancy but I want to put that off for as long as possible. At least through dinner.
"Well, you know me, never doing much these days," he sighs, "my bad knee has gotten me down most of time and I'm having to get disability."
I smile politely but frankly, I don't give a fuck. He starts to sense my uninterest and moves his focus to Noah who is frantically trying to get the pot of pasta out of the oven.
"So what do you do for a living?" He interrogates.
"I'm a firefighter," he says. This comes as a surprise to me. He never went to work when I was here so I assumed he didn't work.
"I'm on leave for a bit because of a nasty burn I got a few weeks ago," he says.
I try to think about any scars he had. Am I really that selfish? I didn't even know my own boyfriend's injuries.
"Wow," my dad says.
"Yeah, wow," I say nonchalantly. I feel so stupid.
Noah smiles at me. He knows very well that I never noticed or even asked. He places the giant pot on the table. Thankfully, it is still warm. I owe that to Noah.
"Looks delicious," my father says as he sits at the table and greedily grabs the tongs. He serves himself a heaping pile and immediately starts to pig out.
Noah makes a face at me. He is starting to draw an accurate picture of my father. A picture that he did not expect though I warned him. Noah grabs a serving but passes the plate to me. I blush and take the plate. My father looks extremely impressed. His standards are obscenely low.
Everyone begins to eat when my father begins to ask questions that I had hoped he wouldn't mention.
"Has she told you about her mother?" My father rudely asks.
"Um, yes." Noah says. He is growing uncomfortable. I feel bad for him.
"Damn woman couldn't handle it after her mother died," he says staring into his plate of food while shoveling it into his face, “It runs in the family, you know."
Noah and I sit in silence. My father is really good at getting people to shut up just by making them uncomfortable.
"What about Kane?" My father asks. He did not just say that. Please tell me he didn't say that. I can't handle any more conflict right now.
"Who?" Noah says. He looks thoroughly confused and he should be. I intended for it to stay that way.
"He's nobody," I reassure Noah. He can't know. He won't know.
"You haven't told him?" My father pushes.
"Who is he?" Noah asks.
"It's nothing!" I bark. The urgency in my voice worries Noah. He knows I'm holding a secret from him now. I can't tell him. He just going to have to understand that.
My dad laughs and shakes his head. He shovels more pasta into his mouth. I make a disgusted face at him. I hate this man so much.
Noah looks at me. He wants to know but I won't tell him. No way in hell am I telling him. I look down at my plate. | Everyone sits in awkward silence. Like I said, it's my father's speciality.
I eat until my plate is empty. Perhaps if I keep pasta in my mouth then nobody will ask me questions.
When all of the plates are empty, Noah gets up and grabs all of them. He roughly grabs mine. He is mad. I feel bad for not telling him but I never wanted to tell him. I want to repair from it and keep it out of my new relationship. If I bring the poison into our chemistry, it will become toxic. I can't risk that. But I know I fucked up. I should have explained it in a way that would have made it seem like not a big deal. According to my actions tonight though, he knows that it's not a relaxed topic for me. He puts the plates in the kitchen.
"Anybody want coffee?" I can hear the grit in his voice.
"Sure," my father replies. I was hoping he'd just leave.
"No, I'm good," I say fidgeting with my fingers. The room feels like it's spinning. I fucked up. I know it.
"You don't drink coffee anymore?" My father laughs, "You used to drink it out of your bottle."
I shake my head, "It's an expensive addiction."
My father scoffs at this and grabs the cup of coffee that Noah is handing him. He takes a hearty chug and audibly expresses his adoration with a gentle "Ah!"
"So what else has gone on," he inquiries, "You can't tell me nothing has happened in 5 years."
"Dad, I saw you less than a month ago." I sigh.
"Yeah, but you ran off like you always do," he sighs back.
Noah is caught in all of this just trying to stay afloat.
"Well, something has happened in the last month." I say indignantly.
"Do tell." My father requests.
"I'm pregnant."
He chokes on his coffee and almost spills it on the clean wood floors.
"Pregnant?" He asks. He sounds alarmed. I can understand why.
"My little girl is having a baby?" The confusion fades in his voice and cheeriness starts to rise.
"Yes, Dad," I say, "I'm having a baby."
He places his coffee cup on the table and walks over to me. He pulls me out of my chair and into a bear hug. For that moment, I actually felt loved by him. I can feel my mother channeling through him and it gives me a certain sense of peace.
He lets me go and walks over to Noah.
"Is this the lucky father?" He grins.
"Yes," I say. I say it with confidence though I still don't know. In my heart I hope he is so in my mind he will stay as such.
This lightens up Noah a bit but he is still, I can see it in his grimace. He hides his frown with a smile but I've seen him excited before and this expression does not match that at all. My father pulls him into an even stronger hug than mine.
My father is so ecstatic that I can't help but feel the watered down version of his joy. He looks at is in pure ecstasy.
"Well, I better get out of here," he says with a laugh, "I’ll leave you kids to it."
I roll my eyes. Dumbass.
He hugs me again. Noah walks over to the coat rack and grabs his coat. He hands it to him when our hug is terminated.
"If you need anything, you know who to call!" My father yells on his way out of the door.
Tabitha.
"Of course, Dad," I smile, "I'll see you soon."
I shut the door behind him. He is finally gone. I sigh and lean against the door. My eyes shut and attempt to permit any sense of rest into my body. I am so tense. My shoulders are so tired from all of this weight. I relax for one moment until I remember Noah's anger. Shit.
I open my eyes. He stands in front of the breakfast bar. He grips the counter. His fingers are white from the pressure he is placing on them. His face is cold and his aura is red.
"Who is Kane," he asks firmly.
"Nobody," I say. I avoid looking him in the eye and begin to clean up the table.
"Ana." He harshly snaps.
"Yes?" I keep my tone neutral.
"Who is Kane." His tone intensifies.