The Choice

by Stella Gray

  At least Stefan seemed calm and collected. Just being near him, my leg pressed against his, made me relax. A little.

  The car pulled up in front of the building, and for a moment none of us moved.

  “Are you ready?” Stefan finally asked.

  He had directed the question at Anja. Her face was pale, but she nodded, her gaze steely.

  “I’m ready,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

  The three of us got into the elevator and with each floor, I could feel my anxiety build. Stefan and Anja were silent and fidgety, respectively, so I guessed they were feeling the same. Seconds after ringing the doorbell to my dad’s place, I heard footsteps. I held my breath.

  The door swung open, revealing my father’s tired face. Before he could register that I wasn’t alone, Stefan elbowed his way past, pulling me and Anja into the condo along with him.

  “Evening, Senator,” Stefan said.

  My father’s mouth drew into a firm line, but still he closed the door behind us.

  “What the hell is this?” he demanded, following us into the sitting room.

  He was very purposefully not looking at Anja. I had seen the flare of shocked recognition in his eyes when we’d pushed our way in, the way he’d looked immediately stricken at her presence.

  Not just recognition—panic, too. Even though I’d never doubted Anja, my dad’s reaction to seeing her in the flesh basically confirmed everything she’d told us about their relationship. But if he thought we were here about his infidelity alone, he had quite another thing coming.

  “You remember Anja Borjan,” Stefan said, gesturing in her direction.

  Anja was standing tall but her face had gone pale, her eyes locked unwaveringly on my father. I went over and put her arm around her, causing my dad’s eyes to bulge out of his head.

  “I’ve never seen this woman before,” he said, darting his gaze at her. “You’re mistaken.”

  It was a terrible lie.

  “You can drop the games,” I deadpanned. “We all know what Konstantin’s business is all about, and we also know why you have a vested interest in the…not-so-legal endeavors.”

  “If you think you’re going to blackmail me, you can all get the fuck out right now,” my dad said, starting to turn red. “My lawyer will ensure this slander never sees the light of day—”

  “Just stop!” I interrupted. “This isn’t even about that. It’ll be easier for everyone if you just admit you know her, so we can move on to the real reason we’re here. Now please, sit.”

  He did. Noticing a half-finished drink on the table beside the sofa, I handed it to him. He downed the rest of the alcohol in a single gulp. Finally his shoulders slumped and he looked up at me, seeming older and smaller than I’d ever seen him before.

  “I’m not corroborating anything you just said,” he stated. “But yes, I do know her.”

  “Anja,” I prodded.

  “I know Anja,” he repeated, annoyed. I could see the woman’s posture relax a little at hearing my father finally say her name out loud.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  In my opinion, she had nothing to thank him for. Acknowledging her shouldn’t have required this much pulling of teeth. My father really was a bastard.

  “Now just get on with it and tell me why this woman is standing in my living room.” He glared at Stefan and I before directing his full attention on Anja. “If you’re looking for some sort of pay-off, like I said, you can leave right now. I’m not paying you a cent.

  “In fact, go ahead and tell the media I was with you, for all I care. Who do you think the public will believe? A longtime, respected senator with a great track record, or some foreign hooker that just popped out of the woodwork?”

  Stefan’s fists clenched, and I could feel the outrage radiating off of him, but I pulled my husband back as Anja stepped toward my dad, her head still held high.

  “It won’t just be my word against yours, Senator,” she said. “I have proof. Our seven-year-old son.”

  My father went completely stiff.

  “You’re a liar and a whore,” he rasped, newly invigorated. “There have to be dozens of men out there who could have fathered your child! You’re trying to pin it on me so you can get notoriety and child support, but it won’t work. You think I haven’t dealt with your type before?”

  “Maybe I am wrong,” she said calmly.

  “You see?” my dad shouted triumphantly, gesturing in frustration to me and Stefan.

  Anja went on, “And that’s why we need you to agree to a paternity test.”

  My father scoffed. “There’s no way in hell I’d agree to something like that.”

  I stepped forward. “You don’t have to,” I said. “If you don’t give them a sample of your DNA, I’ll give them mine. It might not be as significant a lab result, but it will prove that I’m related to Anja’s son. And it will be enough to take to the press.”

  My father scowled at me in disgust.

  “I can’t believe you’re buying into this woman’s lies—and over the word of your own father,” he raged.

  I didn’t say anything, just looped my arm through Anja’s in a show of support. My father’s gaze shifted accusingly to Stefan.

  “And you. You’re supposed to be keeping her in line! What kind of husband can’t keep his wife from running around and colluding in these kinds of bullshit conspiracy theories?”

  “The kind of husband who trusts his wife’s rationale,” Stefan answered drily.

  “It’s not bullshit,” I insisted. I’d had enough.

  Pulling out my phone, I scrolled back to a picture I’d taken of Max the other day. The one where he looked almost exactly like a dark haired, more boyish version of me at that age. Same upturned nose with its spray of freckles, same exact brows and eye shape. There was no denying he also looked a hell of a lot like my dad’s old elementary school photos.

  “Look at him,” I said, thrusting my phone in his face. “Look! His eyes are blue-green like Anja’s, but they’re shaped just like yours and mine. And that chin? That’s definitely yours. His hair even curls up like yours when it starts to grow out. How can you pretend he’s not yours?”

  My dad pushed my hand away, stood from the couch, and went to the bar at the other end of the room, where he poured himself a fresh drink. I knew his doctor had said my dad wasn’t supposed to be drinking excessively, but I kept my mouth shut. The only thing I wanted in this moment was to get him to admit that he had fathered an illegitimate child.

  After draining half the glass, he turned his attention back to me.

  “Jesus, Tori. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” he ranted. “I’m in the middle of an election, for Christ’s sake! How could you possibly think it was a good time to approach me about something like this?”

  He was visibly sweating, a light sheen on his forehead, and he looked exhausted. Not for the first time, I thought to myself how much he seemed to have aged over the last few months.

  “This isn’t about your career,” I said. “I just want you to do the right thing.”

  “You’re going to ruin my life!” he shouted at me. Then he pointed at Anja. “This is all your fault, you conniving whore.”

  Stefan stepped between my dad and Anja and me, shielding us from his unchecked rage.

  “I suggest you calm down, Senator,” Stefan said, his voice steely calm.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down!” my father spouted. “I’m going to have all your asses thrown in jail! I’m invincible! I have friends in the Department of Justice!”

  So did we. But my father didn’t know anything about that yet.

  I’d never seen my dad so angry before. He was leaning back against the bar, his heavy breaths becoming ragged. It looked like he was struggling for air. Was it a panic attack?

  “Dad?” I cried out, starting to move toward him.

  Suddenly he fell to the ground, his hands clutching his chest.

  Tori


  Chapter 23

  Even though I was wearing a sweater, I couldn’t stop shivering as we sat in the hospital waiting room, my ass already numb from sitting so long in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Hours had passed, and I hadn’t seen my father since they’d loaded him into the ambulance outside his condo, his face covered with a mask, his limp body strapped to a gurney.

  Anja had been the one to call 911 as I had knelt beside my father’s prone body, my hands reaching for his, trying to find a pulse. But I had been in too much shock to be any kind of help, and Stefan had his hands full trying to calm me down and pull me away from my dad. The EMTs had arrived quickly, but everything after that was a complete blur. I didn’t even remember getting into the car with Stefan and Anja.

  My husband had already called my stepmom, and she was on her way, speeding here in her little roadster. The drive from Springfield was a long one. Still, she should be here any minute. I looked forward to Michelle’s comforting southern accent, her soothing words.

  “You hanging in there okay?” Stefan asked softly, his eyes full of concern.

  I offered a weak smile. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I still love him, even after everything he’s done. I never got a chance to tell him that.” My voice broke.

  “He knew you loved him,” my husband assured me, passing me a few tissues.

  “All families fight,” Anja added. “The love remains.”

  She was sitting across from us, trying to read the same trashy celebrity gossip magazine that had been in her hands since we got here, her gaze unfocused. We were all shaken by what had happened, and had settled into silence after we arrived at the hospital. Surely I wasn’t the only one who feared that confronting my father had been what triggered his second heart attack. He was in surgery now, the nurse at reception had told me. She had no other news.

  We were coming up on hour number four.

  I didn’t know what to do with myself. There was a TV in the waiting room but it was on mute. Whenever I glanced up, my eyes were so teary I couldn’t even read the closed captions.

  Glancing over at the reception desk, I searched the faces of the nurses, as if their expressions could tell me something. As if they weren’t handling dozens of other cases, as if they were even thinking or talking about my dad at the moment. I hated all this waiting. The not knowing. The déjà vu was strong. It felt like I had just been here with him during his last heart attack. I was a mess.

  Despite the fact that I was still mad at him, this wasn’t how I wanted my dad to go, with both of us up in arms with each other. I prayed I’d get another chance to talk to him and tell him how I felt, despite all his flaws and past mistakes. I also prayed he’d have the chance to do right by Anja and Max—not because he thought it was the only way to avoid blackmail or litigation, but because he chose to. Because he wanted to do the right thing. Maybe he’d even want to be an active part of Max’s life, as I did.

  My stomach twisted as I remembered how he had hit the floor. My shaking fingers hadn’t been able to find a pulse, but I could still remember how cold his skin had felt. The whole thing kept replaying in my mind like a horrible movie that I couldn’t turn off.

  I watched a doctor stop at the nurse’s station and I straightened, somehow knowing in my gut that this woman had information about my father. Sure enough, the nurse gestured to where we were sitting. I held my breath as she approached, adjusting the lapels of her white coat.

  “Are you Senator Lindsey’s family?” the doctor asked. She was older, exuding calm competency, with a regal bearing and a kind face etched with wrinkles and deep laugh lines.

  “We are,” I said, managing a nod.

  “You can come with me now,” she said gently.

  We followed her silently out of the waiting area. At first I thought we were going to be led to a hospital room, where my father would be lying there in bed, pale and hooked up to machines but still alive, just like he had been several months ago, right after my honeymoon.

  Instead, we were taken to an empty room.

  “I’m so sorry,” the doctor said once the door closed behind us. “I know there is a lot of press hanging around out there and I wanted to give you your privacy.”

  I didn’t quite understand and stared at her, confused.

  “And my father—?”

  Her face said it all, and I felt myself sagging against Stefan already. Her words sounded like they were coming from very far away.

  “…has passed away, unfortunately.”

  My blood was rushing in my ears, my body going numb, and I struggled to listen to the rest of what the doctor was saying.

  “…initial heart attack…sudden cardiac arrest during surgery…everything in our power, but ultimately it was fatal. I am so sorry.”

  Anja sank into a chair, silent tears streaming down her face. I knew they were not for her, but for me and for Max. For the tragedy that her son would never get to meet his father. The doctor handed her a tissue and held the box out for me. I shook my head.

  I had no tears. Not yet. They would come, for sure, but right now I was still in shock.

  The door closed and suddenly I looked up and realized that both the doctor and Anja had left the room. I turned to Stefan, confused, but he just took my hands.

  “They thought you might need to take some time,” he said.

  I nodded. “It doesn’t feel real. He can’t just be…gone. This doesn’t make sense.”

  “I know,” Stefan said, pulling me tight against his chest.

  Then my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Michelle.

  Where are you? her text read. I just got to the ER entrance. What’s the room number?

  My stomach turned over and I showed the text to Stefan.

  “I don’t even know what room we’re in right now,” I told him.

  He gave me a firm nod. “Don’t worry. I’ll find her and bring her back here.”

  I grabbed his arm before he could leave.

  “Don’t tell her what happened,” I told him. “Please. She deserves to hear it from me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I said, even though I wasn’t. “I should be the one to break the news.”

  When he left, I dropped into a chair and let out a deep breath. The reality of the situation was finally sinking in. In just a few moments I was going to have to tell my stepmom not just that her husband was gone, but that he had left behind a previously unknown son. I would have to tell her everything.

  I put my head in my hands, hating that I had to do this. Hating that my father had left this mess for me to deal with.

  Finally there was a soft knock on the door, and when I looked up, I saw Stefan peering through the crack he’d opened up.

  “Michelle is here,” he said.

  “Okay.” I stood and gestured that he should let her in.

  She tore into the room, eyes darting around, tear tracks down her face and her hair disheveled and windblown. It was obvious she’d just driven the four hours from Springfield at breakneck speed, probably crying the whole way. My heart broke for her. I was about to make this day one of the worst of her life.

  “Michelle,” I said, voice wavering, opening my arms. She came toward me, enveloping me in a hug. Her heart was beating so hard and fast that I could feel it pounding against me.

  “Tell me what happened,” she choked out, clinging to me hard. “Where is he?”

  As hard as it was to do so, I pulled away and led her to a chair. We both sat down and I took her hands, barely able to meet her eyes.

  This might be the hardest thing I’d ever had to do.

  Although I barely remembered anything about my birth mother, Michelle had been a constant in my life since I was little. She’d been a true friend to me ever since that first day we’d met and made s’mores together. It couldn’t have been easy, being such a young woman herself and coming into an already-made family, expected to be a trophy wife and a perfect politician’s spouse, as well as
a parent to a precocious child. I couldn’t speak to the marriage she’d had with my father, though I knew he held her up as the ideal in many ways, but she had been a wonderful mother to me. She was family, and I loved her. And I was about to break her heart.

  “I’m so sorry,” I began, my voice husky. “He had another heart attack. We rushed him right here but then, during surgery, he went into cardiac arrest. He…he didn’t make it.”

  She closed her eyes, and her shoulders started to shake with the force of her sobs. The sight almost broke me, but I was far from finished.

  “I should have taken better care of him,” she choked out. “I tried to get him to eat better. To stop drinking. But he was so stubborn. He didn’t want to change.”

  “This isn’t your fault,” I said, rubbing her back. “There’s nothing you could have done. That any of us could have done. You can’t blame yourself.”

  I passed her the box of tissues. Ever elegant, even with her makeup smeared, she pulled a compact out of her purse and carefully blotted her face, fixing it until it looked as perfect as it could. Still, her eyes were red and puffy, already welling up again. She cleared her throat.

  “I’ll call his PR person and put together a statement from the family,” she said firmly, transforming into the politician’s wife she had been trained to be. “Does the media know yet?”

  I shook my head and took a breath, tapping into my reserves of anger over the situation in order to keep from falling apart. I was barely hanging on. “There’s more.”

  “More what?” Michelle asked, searching my eyes.

  “There are some…things I learned recently,” I said slowly. “Things that Dad has done over the years.”

  Michelle pressed her lips together, leaning back. She looked wary, but not surprised. No doubt, my father hadn’t been able to keep all of his misdeeds a secret, and under her sweet accent and manners and charm, Michelle was sharp as a tack, and nobody’s fool. I’d bet anything she was well aware that my dad had stepped out on her during the course of their marriage.