Electric Impulse: A Bond UnBreakable

Chapter 35 | A Missing Piece

2 Months Ago

End of December (4 Months Pregnant)

"Wow! When you said baby on board. . ." Wearing black trimmed professor glasses and a hunter green sweater vest over a navy and white plaid button down shirt, Tristan hardly looked the type to abandon the building, as Mom liked to say. His low-cut, greying, salt and pepper beard, frames a handsome face. My face. It's almost unbelievable how much we look alike, especially now that I'm older.

"Uh thanks," I whisper as I take my seat.

"Wow." He nods after taking his seat. "You're beautiful, Pick—uh, Ari." He smiles weakly and fumbles with the salt and pepper shakers. He nods. Again. "It's been a while, kiddo."

"Sure has." My eyes dart around the café looking for something to talk about. My lips refuse to open, forming a tight circle like a kid pouting.

"So, you wanted to meet face to face? How's your little sister?"

Our eyes meet for the first time.

"You mean your youngest daughter? Mia?"

"Not." He pulls at his collar. "Not my youngest daughter, but yes Mia. How is she?"

"Not your youngest?" I pause.

What is he saying?

"What are you saying, Tristan?"

"Hey, hold on now. I'm-I'm still you're father. You can call me dad."

"Like hell I will! How long has it been since you been that guy? Those shoes have been filled."

"Oh, have they now!'

"Don't raise your voice at me! You've lost that privilege a long time ago."

A woman dressed in business attire approaches the table. "Excuse me, I'm the manager here. Is there a problem?" She looks between the both of us.

My cheeks burn.

"I apologize, truly, I'm sorry. It's my fault. I'm trying to talk with my daughter for the first time in over seventeen years. And . . . it's not easy. But you won't have any more problems out of us."

Her expression softens. "Thank you for that. Listen, can I get you anything? On the house? Coffee? Dessert, maybe?"

I laugh. "I have had my eye on that peanut butter supreme brownie and a half caf latte."

"Sure thing. That brownie has a cult following." She chuckles and turns to Tristan. "Anything for you, Sir?"

"Please, call me Tristan." He looks at me with kind eyes. "And this is my oldest daughter, Aria. Ari for short. Pickle if you're in her good graces." He smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

Miss manager lady clears her throat.

"Oh, and I'll have a coffee. Black."

"Gotcha." She walks off.

He swallows. "You're right to be angry. I get it." He stares at the table blinking.

"And what's this business that Mia isn't your youngest?" I stare at him knowing the answer to my question.

"It's been so long, I don't even know how to talk to you anymore." He sighs.

"Well, I'm not five. You know, the last time you talked to me? You let all this time, all these years pass by without a word, until I reached out to you. What kind of ego maniac are you?" Years of hurt creep up the back of my throat.