𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃 // 𝐇.𝐒.

51!

"Take another deep breath if you have to," Harry says before having to go through the secured entrance.

I take his suggestion, practicing therapeutic breaths because I'm far too anxious to even comprehend the things I would say to my mother.

Making it through the metal detectors, Harry grabs the car keys from the small bin he had to put them in. Placing it into his pocket again, he follows closely behind. My eyes look straight at the front desk of a newly remodeled scenery. So much has changed, I noticed. There's more daylight seeping into the lobby from the tall windows and skyline. The colors from boring browns have changed to cool gray tones. It's nicer.

Standing at the desk, the receptionist has hung up the phone. She takes a look at me, raising her eyebrows as if she's waiting for me to speak. She hasn't greeted me, but I don't need to be greeted. I clear my throat and finally say, "I'm looking for Dr. D'Amore, Chief of Cardio."

The tired woman behind the counter looks away and she sighs behind her computer screen. "Ma'am, unless you're having a heart attack—"

"I'm her daughter," I quickly informed the lady who was close to shutting me down. "So if you can let me know where she is or have someone tell her I'm here—it's urgent."

She gives in, lifting the phone back up and holding it to her ear. I whisper a thank you then turn to look at Harry. I tell him, "Do you want to wait?"

Harry looks behind him, seeing the waiting room chairs and I begin to suspect he assumed he'd be coming with me to talk to my mom. Though, I can't handle that right now. "Okay," he mumbles, turning on his heels. Digging his hands into his pockets, he makes his way over to a chair in the far corner.

"Dr. D'Amore is coming down," the receptionist then alerts me. I turn again, nodding and thanking her again. I then hug myself, stepping aside to go over the things I should say to her. I don't know where or how to begin.

I feel Harry's eyes on me, but I don't meet them from across the room. I stare at the elevator doors instead, watching busy people come in and out over the next few minutes.

Wrong Dr. D'Amore.

I watch my father walk out of the elevator in his white coat over his scrubs. He spots me right away with raised eyebrows and open palms over the surprise of my presence. Walking towards me, he then adjusts the glasses over his eyes. "JoJo?" He stops in front of me. "What's going on?"

I breathe in as we both seem to forget how a father and daughter should greet after not seeing each other for a long time. "I asked to see Mom."

"I know, kid, but she's operating. One of the nurses told me that my daughter was in the lobby," he lets me know as his hands settle on his hips. "Thought they were kidding so I had to come down and see it for myself."

"Well, they weren't kidding," I say as I look into the eyes that look similar to mine. The only thing I seem to have from my father is his eyes. Other than that, he stands tall with dirty blond hair and sarcastic wit. "I really need to talk to her. Why hasn't she been returning my calls? You guys say I never call, but when I do I get no answer."

He sighs, stepping further away from the front desk and I follow. "Honey, she's been busy. I'm sure she doesn't mean to miss your calls," he tells me as if he expects me to believe it. "Have you tried calling me?" He raises an eyebrow.

"No," I admit.

"The last time you called me, you said you didn't need our help."

I tighten my jaw when I'm reminded of the phone call by the poolside in Vegas. He's right, I told him I didn't need their help. I even told him I was rich. I try not to flinch from the truth behind that hurtful facade I just remembered.