“Scarlett?” he says, without looking up. “What are you doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I step inside, preparing to beg Dad to approve my reinstatement application. “I?—”
He lifts a hand, silencing me. It’s not rude. Everything about my father is efficient. “Sit,” he says.
The leather chair in front of his desk swallows me, feeling snug, reminding me that I put on weight since leaving school. Being an EMT is a physical job, but we sit around a lot and snack while waiting for calls. Fancy dinners with Pierce also upped my daily calorie count.
I clasp my hands in my lap, heart pounding. Great. The perfect emotional foundation for this conversation. For begging. I might as well start crying,
Dad finally looks at me, and his jaw drops open. “What happened?” His voice softens by a microscopicdegree. “You look…worn out.”
I swallow. “My EMT shifts are long and grueling. But I’m not here to complain about hard work. I wanted to tell you in person before you hear from someone else that Pierce and I are over. I packed my things a few weeks ago, and I’ve been crashing on Regan’s sofa.”
I can’t tell my father that Pierce cheated on me, or that he hit me. Rumor is there’s an adjunct professor on staff here with ties to the mafia. I also can’t tell him that I was walking the streets in the rain, got hit by a taxi, then let a strange man have his way with me in a hotel room.
So I let my father believe I slept on a sofa with cat hair in a studio apartment that is barely big enough for a litter box this whole time.
My father meets my gaze, and I can see he wants to say something about Pierce, but instead, he asks, “Where does Regan live, again?”
“Near the station.”
“In the Bronx?”
“Dad…” I cock my head. “Yorktown.”
Dad’s nostrils flare. “Is her apartment safe?”
“She’s an EMT, too, remember? If someone breaks in, we’ll hit them with an oxygen tank.”
My father’s eyes narrow on me. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I lost your mother. I can’t lose you, too.” Pain flashes across his face so fast I almost miss it. He turns away from his computer to give me his full attention. “Marrying a Langston would have set you up for life. Even if I didn’t approve of what that shit-for-brains did to you. It took a lot of restraint on my part not to put him through a wall for convincing you to take a leave of absence from medical school. You were in the top five of your class, for crying out loud.”
“Pierce is an asshole, but I assure you, his Harvard Medical School brain is intact.” I hate to defend Pierce, but that’s only part of the truth. Plus, I can’t have my father starting a war with the Langstons. “I needed a break.”
“Breaks can result in a loss of focus.”
“Come on, Dad. I’m not the only student who’s ever taken time off.” He buried himself in work after Mom died. And he expected me to do the same. Only, I couldn’t.
His gaze flicks over my face, searching for cracks. Weakness. Doubt. “I didn’t enjoy watching you suffer, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”
“Pierce’s idea of helping me was to control me,” I say.
“I’m glad you saw the real side of him before you married him.” He sets down his pen. “Now, what does this mean for medical school?”
My pulse spikes. Here it is.
“I want to return,” I say. “Immediately. I want to finish this journey. I want to be a doctor.”
Dad exhales through his nose because he knows this is hard. The tension in his shoulders loosens. “Good.”
“Dad… I’m not asking for special treatment. Just the chance to continue the program.”
“You already have the foundations,” he says slowly. “But coming back after a leave is a hard transition back.”
“I know.”