Page 111 of Made for Wilde

My Dad is standing at the end of the hallway with a bouquet of yellow roses clutched in his weathered hands. His face lights up when he spots me, pride radiating from him like sunshine.

My stomach drops.

“Charlotte!” He rushes toward me with his arms outstretched. “My little girl, the champion hair stylist!”

The roses he’s carrying are crushed between us as my Dad pulls me into a bear hug.

“Dad,” I manage to squeak out, my voice muffled by his shirt. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a meeting.”

My dad takes a step back and his smile lights up his entire face.

“I did. But at the last second, I changed my mind. I decided to come here and surprise you.” He looks down and touches my stomach gently with wonder. “But it looks like you have a surprise for me. Sweetheart, are you pregnant?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

His face breaks into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.

“Oh, honey. I know you’re young, but if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.” He glances down the hallway. “Who’s the lucky guy? Is he here?”

His words make everything so much worse. He’s being so understanding, so perfect, and I’m about to destroy everything.

“Dad, I...”

The hallway suddenly feels too small, too airless.

Dad’s smile wavers slightly. “He’s sticking around, right? Because if not, I swear I’ll...”

I shake my head frantically.

“No, it’s not like that. He’s very involved. Very supportive.”

Relief floods Dad’s face. “So, when do I get to meet him?”

His hand is still on my shoulder, steady and warm like it’s been my entire life.

“He’s actually...” I start, but the words die as heavy footsteps echo down the hallway behind us.

Koda says, his deep voice carrying down the hallway. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Then he notices who I’m with, and everything in his posture shifts. His stride falters. His expression goes carefully neutral.

“Jason.”

I feel Dad’s body stiffen beside me. His arm drops away from my shoulders as his gaze moves between Koda and me. Back and forth, back and forth, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle but doesn’t want to know the answer.

“Dad,” I manage to whisper. “We need to talk.”

His eyes never leave Koda’s face. “About what, Charlotte?”

The question hangs between us. The moment stretches, elastic and fragile, ready to snap.

Koda moves to stand beside me, close but not touching. His presence is both comforting and terrifying. There’s no running from this now.

I force the words past the lump in my throat. “About the baby.”

Dad’s face transforms before my eyes.

The proud father who arrived with flowers disappears. His jaw tightens, and a muscle twitches beneath the skin. His gaze moves deliberately from my face to Koda’s, then down to my stomach, then back to his best friend’s face again.