What Lurks Beneath the Surface ✔️

chapter thirteen

I sit in the diner, glancing fretfully over my shoulder every thirty seconds. My palms are sweating, my heart racing.

Coming here was probably a mistake.

At the other end of the restaurant, I see Rem and Kira sitting in a booth, both wearing baseball caps and sunglasses. Kira lifts her menu to mask her already covered face. Rem chuckles before following her lead. Seconds later, my cell vibrates.

Rem <3: Kira is really into this whole espionage thing.

Me: You both look ridiculous.

Rem <3: We're just looking out for you, pretty girl.

I let out a sigh. It's impossible to be mad at them.

After taking his phone number and then avoiding him for weeks, I finally agreed to meet with Benson. I opted for a public place. Gram taught me all about stranger danger. I know better than to trap myself with a man I barely know.

Even if that man is my biological father.

As soon as he told me his name, I knew. Gram and Grandpa have never shared much about my father—just his name and that he's a deadbeat. I've never even seen a photo.

"How can you be sure he's your dad?" Kira questioned me, concern written all over her face. "He might be a fake. What if his name isn't even Benson?"

"He's not a fake," I assured her. "You didn't see him, but he looks just like my Aunt Gemma."

Since neither Kira nor Rem trust the guy, they insisted on joining me. I'm glad they did, because they're the only people who know I'm here.

I hear a ding as the door to the diner opens. Quick footsteps sound against the checkered tile floor. I feel a presence beside me and look up, already knowing who's there.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting long," Benson says. "Mind if I take a seat?"

I nod my head, too nervous to speak.

"Evangeline, thank you for coming. I know this is... awkward," he begins, folding his hands in front of him.

Yeah, that's an understatement.

"I'm assuming you know who I am," he goes on, "otherwise you wouldn't have agreed to this meeting."

"I know who you are," I whisper. "You're my... you're my dad."

Merely saying the words "my dad" aloud is surreal. All my life, I've never had a dad.

Well, I did. He just didn't care enough to stick around.

"I am," he murmurs, looking away from me.

I examine him. With dark hair, dark eyes, and light brown skin, he looks like a male version of my Aunt Gemma. Gram is black, and Grandpa is white, so their kids—with the exception of Uncle Bowie, who is paler than I am—are a shade of bronze. I see my grandparents in him, too.

Hell, I even see myself in him.

"You must have a lot of questions," he says. "Whatever you want to know, just—"

"I only have one question, actually," I cut him off. "Where have you been for the past seventeen years?"

He exhales a heavy sigh. "Evangeline, I—"

"Also, where were you when my mom died? If that isn't the universe giving you a second chance to step up as a parent, then I don't know what is."

"It isn't that simple."