Maggie Moves On(123)

“You had no idea?” she repeated slowly.

“Did you wonder why I didn’t present it to you? Why it wasn’t my attorney in the room?”

“Of course not. I assumed you didn’t want to deal with it. With me,” she said, still clinging to what she believed to be true. That she was unwanted. Unloved. Unwelcome.

He grimaced, and she noticed the lines around his eyes were deeper now. “I can’t blame you for thinking that.

“After I turned your trust over to you, you essentially vanished from my life. You stopped returning calls, stopped accepting invitations.”

“Because I thought you made me sign the NDA swearing I would never tell anyone that you were my father!”

“I’m not here,” Dayana insisted, stepping into the room. She had a bottle of scotch in one hand and two glasses in the other. “And I’m not saying anything other than my mother is a cold, single-minded person who hurts people for sport.” She put them down on the desk that stood between father and daughter and left.

They both stared at the bottle.

“Rebecca told me you were finished with me because you got your money. That your trust was all you wanted from me.”

“I never wanted your money,” Maggie said, her voice shaking. She sat because she would start throwing things or making new holes in walls if she let herself think too hard.

“I understand that now,” Spencer said gently. “I started to believe it when you sent that check to me. It was a gift, Maggie. Not a loan.”

She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. “I wanted to prove that I didn’t need you. That I didn’t need a father who didn’t want me.”

“You are so much like your mother,” he said wistfully.

“I didn’t know that you two knew each other beyond…well, me.”

“I loved her.”

His confession had Maggie uncovering her face and reaching for the scotch. “I think I need this.”

“Make it two,” Sebastian said.

She poured heavily, and they sipped in silence for a moment.

“My marriage was rocky when I met your mother at that conference. I’d brought up the idea of separating a few weeks before, and Rebecca had agreed to move into our apartment downtown. In my head, it was a done deal. I met your mother. This bright, beautiful, intelligent, caring woman with this energy. This zest for life. It was intoxicating. We spent the entire conference together.”

Maggie stared over his head at the picture. The picture he painted was exactly how her mother would have liked to be described.

“When I got home, Rebecca was still there. She insisted we give things another try.”

“Have you ever watched the TV show Friends?” she asked.

“We were on a break,” he said wryly.

She snorted into her whiskey.

“I called your mother. Told her I was going to try to make my marriage work. She wished me luck.”

“And that’s the last time you spoke until you found out you had a twelve-year-old daughter,” Maggie said, filling in the blanks.

He surprised her by shaking his head. “I knew about you. She called to tell me she was pregnant and that, not only was she not asking for any kind of support, but she was refusing it. She didn’t want her daughter to grow up feeling like an obligation or a rich man’s castoff.”

“And that hurt you,” she guessed, surprised.

“Deeply. I would have left Rebecca. I would have married your mother, gotten her a job, a nanny, whatever she wanted. But her rejection of me, of what I could give, hurt. I allowed the hurt to dictate my reaction. I gave her exactly what she wanted. Nothing. Shortly after that, Rebecca told me she was pregnant. So I focused on the family that chose me. And here we are.”

“I had no idea,” Maggie said.

“Apparently, this is why communication is important.”

She smirked. “Who knew?”

“Your mother was a very stubborn woman. I hope you don’t take offense if I say I see a lot of her in you.”

She thought of Silas. “You wouldn’t be the only person here to make that observation.”

“Rebecca and I divorced last year,” Sebastian said.

“I, along with the rest of the world, know that,” she told him, thinking of the tabloids reporting on the settlement.

“I can lay the blame with her. I can say that she played off both our insecurities to keep us from forming a bond. But in the end, I am your father, and I didn’t fight hard enough for you. You deserve better, Maggie. A lot better. But I hope that maybe we can stop thinking in terms of owing debts and making up for things, and perhaps we can start over. Without anyone else running interference.”

She nodded. “Except maybe Dayana.”

“Except maybe Dayana,” he agreed. “I should go.

“You can, uh, hang out for a while,” she said. “Dayana and Keaton would love that. There’s a lot of food out there, and the band is just getting started.”

He nodded. “I’d like that.

“I thought the Midtown Mansion was my favorite. But this?” His gaze roamed the room. “This is incredible.”

Well, holy shit.

“You watch my show?” she asked.

He nodded and looked both proud and embarrassed. “Every episode.”