“I do. I think it’s over. Heave that sigh of relief. You’re good. Just promise me one thing . . .”
Smirking because we bested Pa, I open the door to our home and push into the entryway, only to stop dead in my tracks.
My stomach drops to the floor in panic.
My lungs seize up on me.
And my heart thumps heavily against my ribs, the pounding so hard it rattles my legs.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I say as I catch Cora with tears in her eyes, her arms wrapped around herself.
“What’s going on?” Killian asks. “Who’s there?”
A sardonic smirk passes over the man’s face as he saunters toward me.
“It’s been too long . . . son.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
CORA
Stella: You’re giving him lingerie for Christmas?
Cora: Do you think that’s lame? I don’t know what else to get him. He doesn’t want anything and anything he does want, he can buy.
Greer: I think lingerie is a great present. If he’s anything like Arlo, having you as a present is all he’s going to want.
Cora: I hate that you just used my brother as an example, but you’re probably right.
Keiko: I’ve been informed of the purchase Pike has made for you for Christmas. According to popular majority, it is a gift that will be very well received.
Stella: You know what he got her?
Keiko: Affirmative. I was present when he made the purchase.
Stella: What did he get her?
Greer: Ooo, yes, tell us.
Keiko: It’s surprisingly asinine how you presume I would divulge such private information. Shame on you.
Cora: It was a good try, girls.
There’s a knock at the door that startles me from my texting. We were so close to finding out what Pike got me.
Surrounded by a mound of freshly washed clothing and bedding, I unfold myself from the cross-legged position on the floor and head to the entryway. I glance through the peephole and find an older gentleman on the other side, dressed in a suit, hair slicked back.
Huh, maybe a neighbor?
I unlock the door, prop it open, and ask, “Hello, can I help you?”
The man adjusts his shirt cuffs and slowly looks up at me. “Coraline Turner?”
“Yes?” I ask.
He smirks and holds out his hand. “Louis Greyson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Louis Greyson . . . who the hell is Louis Greyson?
“Hello,” I say, confused. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure—”
“Of course he hasn’t talked much about me.” And then it hits me. That smile is too familiar. Those eyes, too dark. That accent. “I’m Pike’s father.”
“Oh, wow,” I say feeling completely unprepared and wishing I wasn’t wearing these holey sweatpants and an oversized, long-sleeved shirt. “I had no idea you were in town.” Should I let him in? I mean . . . of course I should probably let him in. He’s Pike’s father. Maybe he’s here to make amends. “Would you like to come in?”
“That would be delightful.”
I open the door, and he steps in while unbuttoning his suit jacket.
“Sorry about the mess,” I say. “We just moved in and weren’t expecting company.”
“Quite all right.” He examines the space and then turns toward me. “Quaint.”
Ha, he should’ve seen the first place.
“Can I offer you a drink? Some tea, perhaps?”
“No, I’m fine.” He looks around again. “Is Pike here?”
“He’s out. I believe he should be home any second now. You can have a seat and wait for him if you’d like.”
“Yes, I think I shall. Maybe we can chat.”
“Sure.” I smile, even though I feel incredibly awkward. “Are you sure I can’t get you a drink?”
“Positive.” He works his way over to the single mid-century modern leather chair, flicks a shirt off of the armrest, and then takes a seat.
That was rude; then again, I believe that’s his nature.
I take a seat across from him on the couch and ask, “When did you get in?”
“This afternoon. Have some business to tend to. Thought I would stop in and congratulate the new couple.”
“Oh, thank you.” I look out the window, willing Pike to come home. “It’s been kind of a whirlwind,” I say, not sure how much his father knows.
“It has . . . hasn’t it?” he says slowly, almost calculated. “I was quite surprised, actually.”