Page 47 of You Found Me (The Meadow Springs #1)

Emmaline

After an amazing weekend with Spencer, I think it’s time to talk to my mom.

I make sure to let her know I’m on my way since I refuse to be scarred any more than I already have been by their antics. But I think I’m ready to look up my birth father.

I mean, I’ve had his first name for a long time. She said if I wanted his last name to look him up, she’d give me that too. Chance didn’t support it, so I haven’t thought about it in years.

As if I conjured him from just a thought, I get a string of texts.

Unknown

whatever happened with Kari is done

u need to come back home because I need u

i cant get this big brand deal without having a good image

getting really sick of u ignoring me

ur fucking that up for me by being such a cunt

u can have a little longer to throw a hissy fit before i make it worse for u

After the last one, I block the number. I don’t have time for his pathetic excuse of groveling and scare tactics. I need to focus on the task at hand.

When I walk in, Mom calls out to me, “We’re in the dining room. Come sit and eat with us.”

I walk in, sitting in my old spot at the table, noting that Mom already had a place set for me and food on my plate. “You didn’t have to fix me a plate.”

Mom waves me off. “Oh hush. I miss feeding someone other than your dad. Besides, you said you had something to talk about, and I was a bit nervous.”

Dad asks, “Is it something to do with your master’s program? You know if you have any trouble with paying for it, we’d be happy to cover the cost.”

“Your dad’s right, sweetie,” Mom adds in. “We’re both so proud of you for finally doing this.”

“Thank you—both of you. But I had a decent savings before moving here and I’ve continued to add to it. So, I’m okay.”

“Then what’s going on?” she asks me, with a hint of worry in her voice.

I take a cleansing breath, before stating, “I’m ready to know who my birth father is.”

Dad smiles, reaching over to grab my hand. “I think that’s great.”

Mom is silent, until my dad nudges her. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting that. If that’s what you want to do, I can’t stop you.”

“I just want to see what kind of person he is—at least on social media. I don’t think I’ll reach out to him.”

Mom looks relieved. “Well, his last name is Miller. If you’ll excuse me, I’m suddenly not feeling well.”

She stands, leaving me and Dad alone, both of us a little confused .

My dad clears his throat. “We’ve always said that when you wanted to know who he was, we’d back your decision.

I think your mom just never expected you to ask since you had me.

And before you butt in with protests, I know that you’re not doing this to replace me or to spite me.

I will always be your dad and you’ll always be my little girl.

No matter how old you get. I’ll talk to your mom. ”

That’s what I was worried about most, so his words mean everything to me. “Thank you, Dad. Hopefully Mom will let you know what’s going on. I’m sorry I ruined your dinner. I should probably go though, I need to get everything ready for work for the week. Love you, old man.”

He pulls me into a hug, ruffling the top of my head like he used to do. “Love you, too, kiddo.”

***

I’m making my way out to Spencer after finishing my first shift of the week, and as usual, he’s standing against the passenger door.

At first I thought he was only doing it for show—and maybe he was. Though now that I’ve gotten to know him better, I realize that it’s just who he is as a person.

Showing he cares in a million little ways.

When I get within reach, he grabs my hand, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me. The kind of kiss that sends tingles all throughout my body, like I’ve been struck by lightning.

The kind of kiss a person hopes they have at least once in their lifetime. And I have it now.

He pulls away slowly then kisses my forehead. “You ready to go, Shortstack?”

“I am. Can we go to your place? I want to talk to you, and I don’t want Mia holding up a glass to my door.”

“Of course.”

Rather than push me to talk on the way home, he let the radio fill the space and held my hand. Grounding me, letting me know he’s here for me, no matter what I’ve got going on in my head .

After getting inside, I shower quickly using the body scrub and wash I left last time I was here. He’s sitting on his bed, with a shirt and boxers for me. I put them on in a rush and climb onto my side of the bed.

And that makes me come to the realization that this is more serious than I thought.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s nothing bad. I wanted to know if you’d sit with me while I look up my bio dad? If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I can do it tomorrow or something. I’m feeling a little anxious about it and thought it might be better if I had someone with me. I wanted that someone to be you.”

“Emmy, of course I want to be here for you when you do this. It’s a big deal for you and it means a lot to me that you’re choosing me to help.”

“You don’t think it’s silly to look him up?” I ask him.

“Not at all. I think it’s natural to want to know who makes up the other half of your DNA.

And no matter what, Andrew is still your dad.

He’s known your whole life that you weren’t biologically his, but he chose to be your dad and helped shape you into the incredible woman sitting beside me, he is your dad in every way that matters,” he squeezes my hand. “Do you know his name?”

“Yeah. I talked to my parents about this yesterday. Mom gave me his full name but then immediately excused herself and I didn’t see her before I left. Dad was really supportive which made me feel better.”

“Well,” he says, walking over to his dresser, grabbing his laptop. “Let’s see what we can find.”

He hands it to me, and I quickly type in the name, Richard Miller .

Immediately, pages upon pages pop up of him and his accolades .

. . and I recognize him. He’s a sports newscaster who goes by Rick and is someone I’d watch frequently on TV when I couldn’t be there for Chance in person.

He’s funny and sharp. And I always liked that even though he was this professional persona, he didn’t gel his hair down to tame it. It was wavy and slightly messy .

I have his hair.

The hair I have a love-hate relationship with comes from the man who didn’t want me. That somehow seems to track with my string of luck.

I go back and find the link to his Facebook and see he has tons of photos with a woman a little older than me. The woman, Quinn, doesn’t have the same last name. Instead, she’s using what I imagine is her middle name, Eloise, as her last name.

Could she be his girlfriend? My stomach feels like I swallowed lead just thinking about how he left us to pursue women half his age.

Deciding I’ve seen enough, I close the laptop and tell Spencer I just want to go to sleep. “Thank you for doing this with me. I think I’m going to go home.”

“Buttercup, I’ll do anything you ask of me. Happily. And I can’t begin to understand what you’re feeling right now, I get it if you want to be alone. But I want to let you know that you don’t have to be.”

“Thank you, Spence. It means a lot that you want to be here for me. I really just want to go get in my bed and process everything. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I kiss him quickly before leaving. Crossing my fingers and toes that Mia isn’t in the shared space of the apartment. I love her to death, but I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. I want to wallow and dwell on the what ifs of my life.

Like what if Richard had stuck around? Would I be the person I am today? Would he have even stayed in the long run? I mean if he so easily went back to his ex, who’s to say he wouldn’t have left my mom for someone else eventually. Someone younger like the woman in his profile picture.

My torment of never feeling like the first pick with significant others, would’ve been much worse if he’d chosen us only to decide to leave later in life. So, I guess thanks for saving me that bit of early trauma, sperm donor.

** *

Last night when I got off work, Spencer was there with a bacon cheeseburger and a flavored sparkling water for me.

He knew that I had not been eating dinner the last few nights I’d been at work.

I came out wearing leggings and a sweatshirt—that I definitely stole from his closet last weekend.

I could see the moment it clicked for him that it was his soccer sweatshirt from college I was wearing and all I could do was smirk.

“You little thief,” he said in mock outrage. “How did you get that out of my closet without me noticing? I thought I left it at my parents’ house. It happens to be my favorite sweatshirt.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Spence. This is my sweatshirt.”

“Oh, so now we lie to each other?” he paused, placing a hand to his chest. “I’m hurt.”

“Fine, fine. I took it the morning after we officially started dating. It just looked so cozy. I can give it back if you want,” I said before dropping my bag down and reaching for the hem of the sweatshirt. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it without asking.”

He placed his hands on mine and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Shortstack, you look incredibly sexy in leggings and my sweatshirt. Now that I’ve seen you in it, I never want it back. In fact, I think I want to see you in more of my clothes in public.”

I felt my cheeks pink up and before I could argue with him, he added, “Now get in the truck before I have us putting on a show for your co-workers. I wasn’t joking about how hot I think you look.”

I rolled my eyes and brushed past him to get into the truck.

But before I could climb in, he grabbed my arm, spun me around, pulled me to his chest, and kissed me.

Deeply. I felt myself melt into the kiss and wrapped my hands around the back of his neck.

Before it went any further, he pulled away leaving me breathless. “Okay, now you can get in.”