Chapter 10 A BLAST APOLOGY

"I'm sorry. I just thought that it was the best way to address my boss." I rant. I don't even know where I got the courage to mumble that. He looked away for a minute, still not letting go of my hand. "I don't know who has a memory disorder between you and me, but I think I remember ordering you to drop the sir. Am I right?" He asks, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb, which I'm sure he doesn't know he is doing. I nodded my head in response to his question. "It's Andy, for you." He adds. "Okay," I say. "Okay...?" He quizzes. "Okay, Andy!" I state. "Good." He releases my hand, and I go to pour him coffee, after which I settle back on my stool next to him, but I keep my eyes away from him. I don't know whether he still wants to strangle me or if he has let the matter go. The fact is, I made a mess, which I am still so ashamed of, and I have no idea how to clean it up. Will he ever forgive me? "Do you want to say something?" Snapping my eyes at him, I notice he is watching my restless fingers. It feels like a miracle to hear him talking like this to me again, and maybe I should grab this opportunity to explain myself and ask for forgiveness-that is, if that word is in his vocabulary. "Will anything I say now fix a thing?" I softly ask, turning to face him. "Try." He lazily turns to completely face me, and we are now facing each other, our legs touching. "I am sorry, is all I can say, Andy!" I look at him and speak with all honesty. "It wasn't my intention to make you look uninformed in front of the principal. And it wasn't my intent to keep it hidden from you either. I was intending to tell you all about it that evening. I'm sorry for foolishly deciding for your daughter without your consent. I don't have the right to do that. I am sorry for everything, and I vouch that nothing of the sort will ever happen again." I finish with a huge pile forming in my throat, but I forcefully push it down. I can't break down in front of him a second time. He looked at me for a decade, perhaps rummaging for the certainty in my eyes, and I let him. I let him see how apologetic I was. How truly sorry I really am. He looks away. "My daughter is everything to me. She is my top most priority. She is my reason to live." The words just rolled out of his mouth like he wasn't speaking to me or anyone, and then he continued, shifting his gaze to me once again. "She has been telling me everything, except for the one thing that's worrisome to her. I felt threatened that now my only daughter trusts in you more than in me." "That's not true, Andy. She did that because she wanted to remain a perfect princess for her dad. It was her childish way of being a good kid to her father, and I am sorry I encouraged it. That's how much she loves you." "Did she tell you all that?" "Yes, she did. You perpetually tell her that kids who fight or cause trouble are bad, right?" He nods. "Well, it's for that exact reason that Angel didn't want you to learn that she fought at school. And as to why she doesn't have a mother, well, she said, You don't tell her a thing." "What can I possibly tell her? I don't want to solace her with lies or counterfeit hopes, nor do I want to maim her with the truth, at least not now when she is too minor. So I constantly joke around that issue whenever she brings it up. But I did not know it was because she was being bullied at school for not having a mother." He looks away. This is what I didn't want. To see him this bothered, because I know just how much his daughter means to him. She is in his realm. He can move mountains and walk miles for his daughter, and if possible, gift her with everything she so desires, including a complete family. "Andy," I position my hands on top of his on his thighs, making him look shift his intense gate at me. "You are a tremendous dad to Angel, and she knows that. She adores you. But I will not lie to you and say that she will stop asking about things like that, especially when she grows up and learns that every child has a father and a mother. Moreover, don't feel bad when occasionally she confides herself in someone else. There are things she will not be able to tell you as her father, but that doesn't mean she trusts someone more than you." I finish my sermon, and Andy looks at me confusedly, like he wants to ask, Aren't you too young to give such pieces of advice? Nevertheless, I squeeze his hands to emphasize my points, and when he squeezes mine back, I know I didn't rant. I made a point or two, and my heart is doing a small dance inside. "Thank you." He says his sweet words, sending me off to cloud nine. Wow! In my cloud nine moods, I even forgot how to respond to a simple thank you. Instead, I just foolishly smile like an idiot. "Can I ask for a favor?" He speaks again, pulling me from my state. "Sure. Anything." I murmur, blushing off the evidence of cloud nine euphorias from my face. "Just don't do anything that can put my daughter in devastation now or even in the future, please. I can bear anything, everything, but not my daughter getting hurt." His cold face warms to this request, sincerity registered by the softness in his dark brown orbs. Looking at him closely, I realize now that his daughter is not just his world. She is his strength and weakness. Angel is the only thing that can bring him, the cold billionaire Andrian Ashton, to his knees and perhaps to his grave. The love and adoration he has for his precious girl are immense. The bits of his story that I know are painful ones, so I understand how sentimental he must be toward the only constant thing in his life, which is his daughter. "I promise you, Andy. Angel will always be safe with me. I will never say or do anything harmful to her. I give you my word." "Okay. It's getting late. Aren't you sleepy yet?" He asks as he stands up, shoving his phone in his pocket. "I have to clean the dishes first." "Okay, I'll go ahead then. And, as part of my apology for how I spoke to you on Monday, I permit you to use the kitchen. Cook whatever you want, and I and my daughter will be the judges of your cooking. Make a list of anything you'll need, and I'll give you the money in the morning." Wow! Did heaven just drop down to earth or something? Did I hear that correctly? Someone shoot me! "Thank you so much!" I tend to respond before he changes his mind. "Welcome, and goodnight." With that, he strands out of the kitchen, and I am left to clean the dishes. After the cleaning, I sit down and write down all the ingredients I need for my cooking and everything that is missing in the kitchen, humming a hymn to which I only know the tune and not a single word. Ooh me!! I cannot believe he authorized me to start cooking. Will they like my food? What if they don't? Will I be barred from the kitchen again? I walk up to my room and go to bed. Well, I will worry about whether or not they will like my food later. For now, let me go to sleep. I am sure I will have a peaceful sleep for the first time this week because Andy and I are okay. We are freaking o-k-a-y!!! 'And he might greet you with a morning kiss tomorrow'! My inner voice teases, but I ignore it and tuck myself under the duvet.