Page 41 of My Ex’s Dad

I roll my eyes, in no mood to lecture him. “Because you haven’t earned it. Contrary to what your mother tells you, and as far as I’m concerned, you haven’t earned anything from me.”

“Yes, I have.” He huffs as I round my desk to leave, like I’m being ridiculous. “I’m your son.”

“Don’t remind me,” I growl.

“I’m your heir,” he adds, far too smugly for my liking.

I grab the front of his shirt and pull him in close to snarl in his face. “Don’t. Remind. Me.”

He squirms, panicked.

“And don’t assume I can’t name someone else in your place. Someone who actually works for my approval.” I release him with a shove.

He staggers back, looking caught between crying and shouting. He’s never learned to regulate his emotions, and I’m losing faith he ever will.

“I do. That’s all I do. I try to impress you, but Mother’s right. It’s impossible!”

I turn to glare at him as he heads for the door, caught in the urge to let this tantrum play out. “All you do is stand around and expect to have whatever you want.” I snap my fingers. “Just like that.”

He sulks, scowling furiously.

“Keep it up, and one of these days you’ll face the consequences of your laziness and stupidity.”

17

LILIANA

Markus isn’t at the bakery when I push the door open. I’m freezing, but the cold doesn’t reach me. It just lies over my skin like a thin sheet of ice, not enough to numb me to what’s real. I’m frozen inside out, still reeling from running into Anton Sokolov mere moments after a pregnancy test told me I’m carrying his child.

The shock stuns me stupid, and I stumble back into the bakery, too impatient to be graceful about it. Hot air hits me hard the second I’m inside. The familiar clatter of the mixers and the hum of the ovens and refrigerators reach me, but in this daze, none of it registers past the low drone of my pulse. It whooshes, too loud, deafening in my head, drowning out every other sense.

My vision is blurred because I can’t latch on to one thing to focus on.

My sense of touch is off, my skin still prickling from the cold air outside, from rushing out of here without a coat.

And my sense of smell⁠—

“Oh, God.” I gulp and strain to breathe through the urgency of needing to vomit again.

It’s the odor of something too sweet from the dough being prepped for early tomorrow morning. It’s the crash from the adrenaline roller coaster of seeing Anton. And it’s the stress that I’m carrying a child I’m not prepared for—at all.

“Liliana!” Jenni spots me at once and dashes toward me. “Are you all right?”

I swallow hard, desperate to get back out again. She’ll expect an explanation, but I can’t stomach another moment in here. Margarita was right. I do need a nap, or something like it, to shake off everything today has thrown at me.

“I…” A lie won’t form on my tongue for her. I’m so far from all right I can’t imagine finding my way back. “I just want to go.” That’s the truth, every part of it. “I need to go and…” I lick my lips, my mouth and throat so dry. Water sounds heavenly, but I refuse to stay here and try to relax. Or to tell her everything that’s going on.

Because this is Jenni, and because she’s that good of a friend who can read me so well, she nods quickly and turns toward the counter. “Rob? Can you close and lock up?”

“Sure, sure. Like, for overtime pay, right?”

I cringe at more expenses. Jenni and I usually stay late to prep for the mornings because we don’t pay ourselves overtime. Just like my parents never did.

“Yeah. Whatever.” Jenni ushers me toward the back, pausing at the office to snag our coats. I lean on her, feeling so dependent just to make it to her apartment. But she’s there for me. Holding me up, not demanding answers.

It’s only a temporary reprieve, though. She’ll want to know everything, but she holds off until we reach her apartment. As soon as I’ve showered and dressed in comfy sweats, I slump onto the couch that’s been my bed these past two months.

I cover my face with both hands and sigh. When I lower them, she’s seated on the coffee table watching me warily. A bottle of water is in her hand, held out to me.