“One is all I need.”
“Fine then. You can go,” my father dismissesRyan.Now there’s the man I recognize.
I step back from the door right before Ryanopens it. I spring into his arms as soon as he walks out, my bodycraving the feel of his.
“What did he say?” I ask innocently.
“Nothing much, just some guy talk. He’s areally outgoing guy once you get to know him,” Ryan laughs.
“Mr. Congeniality,” I quip.
“Alana!” my father’s voice resonates.
Oh shit.
I look at Ryan wide-eyed. “Are you ready topick up the pieces?” I ask quickly.
“Yes, and I know exactly where each onegoes.” He kisses me lightly; liberating emotions I’ve suppresseddeep inside.
I glance at Ryan one last time before I walkinto my father’s chambers.
“Shut the door please,” he says from behindhis desk while concentrating on some paperwork.
I do as he asks, but I don’t take one stepcloser to him. I just stand there in my black pants and whiteoversized collared shirt. My heels digging into the dark green ruglike they’re sinking in dirt.
He looks up at me with his eyes only,“Interesting choice of significant other.”
“I know he’s not your ideal applicant, solet’s just get this over with.” I steel myself against the door.“I’ll go. Erase myself from your life and never look back again.I’m sorry I’m a disappointment.”
“Who says you’re a disappointment?” my fatherretorts.
“You don’t have to say it. I can feelit.”
My father doesn’t flinch.
“Alana,” he addresses me sternly, “today, forthe first time, in a long time, I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Losing you.”
“What?” I squeak.
“I always thought you were like me, but I waswrong. You’re your mother,” his eyes almost look warm when hementions her. “You have her fire, and her affection and hercourage.”
“What?” I repeat blankly, because I amtotally floored right now.
“I’m not good at conveying my emotions,” hesays as if it physically hurts to admit his weakness, “But you werewrong when you said I wished it was you and not her, because theonly thing worse than losing your mother, would be losing you.”
I have become a statue, unable to move. Whois this man? He looks like my father, he sounds like my father, butthe words he’s speaking are not my father’s.
“Your mother and I had a very specialrelationship, Alana.” He looks away uncomfortably. “She was theonly one who ever loved me.”
I step forward rigidly, “She’s not the onlyone. I love you.”
I think that was the most difficult sentenceof my life.
My father pauses for a long moment and thenlooks back at me. “And I you.” His face is still stoic, but hiseyes are warm pools of chocolate brown; the reflection of mine. AndI know that was the most difficult sentence of his life aswell.