Love Consequences (Season 2 of Nata & Phillip's Romance)

15. And More

Phillip

Nata's palm against mine calms my upper body but also gives me ideas of parking the car and missing the first act of the opera. I glance at her and catch her watching me.

"How are you feeling on our official first date?" I ask.

She tries to pull her hand out of mine, but I tighten the grip.

"Do we have to label things?" She stares at our intertwined hands.

"I'm not sure there are labels for what we are doing." I rub my thumb over the soft skin on her wrist.

She purses her lips and moves them to one side. The phone on her lap buzzes. She reads through the message. "Tom is asking if we can come over and talk tomorrow."

I try to pull my hand out of Nata's but she keeps it.

"You need to talk eventually," she says.

"Eventually–yes. Tomorrow–no." Even if I get hold of Mallard in an unofficial setting tonight and get him talking more about Mom, that is only the first step in figuring out where I actually come from. The private investigator I hired said it might take weeks or months before he has anything for me. And Dr. Lutz promised to tell me if he has any concerns about Tom's health. I'm still on his records as someone Dr. Lutz can share information with.

"You could ask Tom who your biological father is. He must know."

"He had his chance. He could have told me any time over the last 37 years. And I'm no longer sure that anything that comes out of his mouth is the truth." At least I have a reliable source where Tom's health is concerned. I'm still on his records as someone Dr. Lutz can share information with. And he promised to alert me to any changes in Tom's condition.

"What reason does he have to lie to you now that the truth is out?"

I get to the parking garage and stop by the valet station. "Good question. What reason did he have to lie to me before? What was he thinking would happen? I would never find out?"

"I'm not Tom I cannot answer those questions. Maybe you go visit, ask him, and see what he says. You don't have to believe him. You can still do your own thing. The private investigator you hired is bound to uncover whatever facts there are to find, but you said he told you it might take weeks if not months. You will have Mallard's version of your mom's youth as well. You can be a scientist, gather all the information and make an informed decision."

"I'm not a scientist though. And I am not ready to face Tom." Do I abandon the man who raised me even though he's been lying to me, when he's sick and needs me, or do I forgive him and pretend the giant chasm that his lying created between us does not exist?

"When will you be ready?"

"I'll tell you." I round the car and open the door, give Nata my hand and help her exist the low to the ground sports car.

The valet takes the key as I admire Nata admiring the high-rise of the Civic Opera. I always found the combination of an opera house on the bottom and an office building on top, a curiosity as opera houses go. The 45-story building borders the Chicago River and is a sight. But I'm more interested in looking at Nata. She is the real sight. The red dress the sales associate picked based on the picture I showed her from the reunion makes her look like a present, wrapped in a long red ribbon I can't wait to tug on and unravel.

I settle my hand on Nata's lower back. My finger migrates a little higher, so I can touch the skin on her back with my thumb. Touching her in private is as standard as breathing, but we haven't really done any PDA outside of our duplex. I wait for her to jerk away or step aside, ready to drop my hand, but she straightens and presses her back into my palm.