Page 47

“Bo. What’s going on?” Dad prompts. “Just say it.”
“I-got-married.” The words come out extra fast and jumbled together incoherently and I try again. “I got married.”
To his credit, my father doesn’t show any reaction other than a quick widening of his blue eyes. “Married.”
“Yeah.”
He presses his lips together. “When was this? And why wasn’t I invited?”
“It was eight years ago.” He frowns. “Hettie. I married Hettie.”
“Does that have anything to do with a little birdie telling me she’s back in Battle Harbour and staying right here under my roof?” I shrug. “What does that mean?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” I admit.
“Have you been married this whole time?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I would think so.” Dad has a perfect poker face, and I can’t read his expression because there is no expression to read.
“There’s more,” I say heavily.
I can’t tell if he’s upset, angry, or slightly amused. “I would think there should be. Let me have it.”
“Hettie has a daughter.I… have a daughter.” This gets a blink. “I didn’t know,” I add quickly. “Spencer wants a paternity test, but she says it’s mine and I believe her. She looks like Lyra.”
“You have a daughter.” He slowly walks around his desk and falls into his chair, still holding the coffee.
“I didn’t know. Tema. She’s seven. I just met her.”
“Because you’ve been married for eight years.”
“It happened… Hettie says… I didn’t know.” I don’t think I’m making sense, just saying the first thing that comes to my mind.
“I would hope you didn’t because, to quote my father, I’d tan your hide if you had a child and didn’t take responsibility for her.” Dad looks across his desk, looking more like an angry father than a king.
“I would never do that.”
“Glad to hear that.” He nods slowly. “I always thought I raised you boys right. But you did let your wife, who didn’t know she was pregnant, I assume, leave the country. And as far as I know, you haven’t seen her since then?”
“Yeah. She left… It was after Mom… A couple of weeks after.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Ah.”
“Yeah. So it wasn’t a good time to get her to stay.”
Dad makes a sound in the back of his throat. “No, it wasn’t really a good time for much, was it?” He takes a deep breath and pastes a smile on his face. “So. What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. Hettie says she wants a divorce. I… don’t know what I want.” Is this the time to tell him I think I’m probably still in love with her, or does that make me look pathetic? Because I don’t think I’m looking good in my father’s eyes, and even at twenty-nine, that still stings.
“I see. Do you still love her?”
“I haven’t seen much of her.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
It doesn’t matter if loving Hettie makes me pathetic. It is what it is. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Probably.