Chapter Twenty-Seven

Elle

My questions sat heavier and heavier with every second that ticked past.

This sham of a lunch date had been going on for forty minutes, during which time a waitress in a bright orange uniform had taken our orders: Dad had a Vietnamese pork salad, Penn had a Thai beef noodle, and I had a mango fish salsa.

The artfully presented meals had been delivered, and as we ate, Penn and my father shared tidbits of golfing handicaps, the best courses around America, what Penn planned to do with his benefactor now that he was feeling better, and every other boring, non-important topic they could cover.

Not once did he mention Stewart—his son.

Not a peep about Larry—his friend/brother/father/secret lover.

Not a whisper about the past he refused to share.

By the time I’d finished eating, my stomach churned, and anger simmered so hot I couldn’t dampen it no matter how much water I drank.

Greg had ignited my temper. Penn just added rocket fuel.

Dad noticed I was strung up. He didn’t make it easier on me by trying to link me into conversations with open-ended suggestions like, “Elle used to come with me on the odd time I went fishing.

“Do you like to fish, Penn? Perhaps you two could spend some time together away from the city?”

Penn pushed away his empty plate, cradling a glass of water. He hadn’t ordered any alcohol, as if he didn’t want his mind to be affected in any way. “I don’t like to fish.

“But I’m open to spending time with Elle in other ways.” He licked his bottom lip free from a water droplet. “In fact, we could go away next weekend, if you’d like?

“I have to visit a friend out of the city.”

I crossed my utensils, pushing away the rest of my lunch. It was now or never. “What friend?”

Dad glanced at me, hearing my sharp tone. He didn’t reprimand, though. Settling into his chair, he gave Penn and me the space to discuss everything we’d left unsaid.

Penn placed his glass on the table, narrowing his eyes.

This was the start of the battle.

~Bring it on.~

“Do you really want to know the truth, Elle?”

“Yes.”

“Sometimes lies are easier.”

“Truth is the only thing I want.”

“Fine.” He ran a hand through his hair, disrupting the dark shine, encouraging wayward highlights to glimmer. “My friend is in Fishkill Correctional Facility. I visit him when time permits.”

“Prison?” I frowned. “Wait, isn’t that a place for mentally disturbed?”

“Insane people?” Penn shook his head. “It used to be. Not anymore. Now it’s a medium security.”

Dad leaned forward, finishing off his pork salad with a grimace. The glow of Penn’s company and rosy hope for a happy future was marred by the mention of a prison.

I chewed a smile.

Dad asked, “What did your friend do?”

Penn cleared his throat—not in an embarrassed way but more of a ‘how much to reveal’ pause. “He’s a thief.”

~A thief.~

The punches from the other night.

The way Penn didn’t hesitate to cause bodily harm.

There’d been two in that alley three years ago. Two men who’d tried to rob and rape me. Was it possible Penn was one of them? Or was he Nameless?

A cold-hearted version of the hero with no remaining empathy? Or was he someone completely different and I’d made all the clues up in my head?

I needed to focus, but after dealing with Greg, I struggled to see Penn as much of a threat as I did before. He was a nuisance with his story-telling, but he wasn’t malicious like Greg had revealed.

I couldn’t decide what question to ask, so I skipped to another just as important. “Does your son live with you?”

Penn scowled, his body tensing against the subject change. “Why do you think he’s my son?”

I scrunched my napkin. Was he about to lie again? “I saw you at Belle Elle. He spoke about you and Larry as father figures.”

“Father figures,” he repeated noncommittally.

“What does that even mean?” My temper spiked. “You are, or you’re not.”

“I am, and I’m not.”

I crossed my arms, doing my best not to overflow with annoyance. “That isn’t even an answer.”

Dad jumped in. “What you’re saying is he’s adopted?”

Penn smiled, granting him respect but not me. “On the way to being adopted, yes.”

“On the way?” I sniped.

“Yes, the paperwork has been filed. We’re awaiting the good news.”

“We?”

“Larry and I.”

“So you ~are~ gay?”

Penn looked at me condescendingly as if I just didn’t get it. “No, Elle. I’m not gay.” Taking another sip of water, his eyes darkened over the rim.

“I thought we clarified that the other night when you came to my home asking me to help you with a small matter.”

Dad locked his gaze on me. “A small matter? Is everything okay, Elle?”

I fought the heat blooming on my cheeks. “Yes.” My teeth locked together, making it hard to reply. “Fine. Penn is just being troublesome.”

“I’m being troublesome?” He pointed at himself, shaking his head. “I think you’ll find I’m being nothing but cooperative.”

“If you were being cooperative, you would tell me who you truly are, where you came from, who Larry is, who Stewie belongs to, and what the hell your friend is doing in Fishkill.” I breathed hard, not caring my father watched me as if I was about to snap.

I’d already snapped once today, and I bounced on the tightrope to break again. “Tell me the truth, Penn—if that is even your name. Then perhaps we’ll see how cooperative I can be.”

Silence cloaked the table. My outburst rang in my ears.

Penn didn’t move.

Dad shifted in his seat, but I remained locked in a vision battle with the man who’d taken my virginity, kicked me out, then rescued me.

I didn’t want to admit it, but beneath my hate and dislike and mistrust and wariness was the fluttering of feelings. When he’d washed my feet...I’d softened. When he’d pressed inside me, I’d caved.

I didn’t want to acknowledge it, but he’d affected me more than just physically.

And I hated that more than anything.

~This isn’t worth it.~

I had a business to run. Greg to deal with. Distractions such as this were a waste of my time.

Standing, I threw my napkin on my dirty plate and sniffed. “You know what? I no longer care. It was a pleasure getting to know you, Mr. Everett, but I don’t want to see you again.”

Turning to my father, I added, “We’re not engaged, Dad, nor have we ever been, trust me. I slept with him—you might as well know that, seeing as he’s implied it in every innuendo he could.

“Do I feel good about that? No. Do I regret it? Yes. Am I pissed he lied to you about our engagement? More than anything.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m returning to the office where I’m in control and don’t have to put up with men like him—” I pointed a finger at Penn’s carefully schooled expression.

I didn’t wait for my father’s reply. Or for Penn’s rebuttal.

As I stalked past tables full of laughing diners, I crushed my heart for flying so fast. I’d done nothing but run away from that man since we’d met.

I disguised it with bluster and bravery, but really, I was terrified of him.

Petrified of the way he made me feel beneath my dislike.

Scared of the way my instincts nudged me harder and harder to look past the man and see someone I thought I’d never find.

But most of all, I was disappointed in myself.

Because for the first time, I’d been the one to lie.

Everything I’d said to my father, every word I’d growled about Penn—wasn’t true.

I felt good about sleeping with him.

I didn’t regret a thing.

And yes, I was annoyed about his lies, but I was more interested in the snippets of truth behind them.

It didn’t matter now.

I had other fights to win.

~It’s over.~