My father rises up tall. He thinks he scares me the same way he always has. He doesn’t realize that, now that I’m this close, I can see all the cracks in him. The wrinkles, the gray hairs, the liver spots. All the signs that prove he is far closer to the grave than he’d like to believe.
If he touches Rowan again, he’ll be even closer than that.
“Think very carefully about what you’re doing, Vincent. About what you’re throwing away.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing.” I meet his gaze steadily. “I’m choosing her. I’m choosing our child.”
Then my father laughs—a cold, harsh crackle.
“You think you can walk away from it all?” He shakes his head. “You’re more naïve than I thought.”
“I never said anything about walking away.” I straighten to my full height, looking down at the man who’s loom
