Hello Lovelies,

It's been a while, huh? How are you?

I hope you're all doing well and, as always, I'm sending you my love and well wishes to you all.

I haven't been writing or editing for a few weeks because I've been unwell - nothing related to the virus, so please don't worry about that! I've just been a bit down and taking some time to get better and more myself. Still getting there but feeling much better than I was.

I hope you enjoy this chapter and that it won't disappoint considering the delay. I do love seeing Ana with Ray. Their interactions make me happy. :)

Much Love,

Chelsea xx

I had put off talking to Ray the moment we returned from Georgia, unwilling to rake over everything there and then. But Christian was right. He usually was, much to my amazement and occasional dismay. Ray deserved to know the truth, not some half-assed story that made no sense, and the sooner the better.

I gave myself a day to plan how I would approach the conversation, eventually deciding to head over to his house on Monday evening after work.

The last thing I wanted was to hurt my father or upset him. I knew I had to tread carefully. Regardless of what Carla had done, he would always respect her as my mother. I wasn't going to stoop to her level and be petty and rude for the sake of it.

Frankly, she wasn't worth the energy it would take to insult her.

Ray and I sat across from each other at his dining table, in the small area offset from his kitchen. There was an ice-cold beer in front of him, a steaming cup of tea between my palms.

He knew there was something up from the second I arrived. He could sense it, and it had put him on edge.

I spoke at length, unleashing every detail about my recent, toxic exchange with Carla and her appalling past behaviour. I didn't hold anything back. I didn't sugar-coat anything, but I didn't lay it on thick either. I said what I had to and that was it.

Ray let me talk without interruption, but his expressions gave away what he was thinking and feeling.

Anger, confusion, disgust… they were all present in his taut features.

"I just can't believe this," he huffed, shaking his head. He pushed a hand through his thinning sandy-grey hair, almost tugging on the ends. "She said those horrible things to you? For real?"

"Dad, I'm not lying."

"No, honey," he blurted. "I'm not trying to say you are, but I… damn, I can't wrap my head around this. She said she wanted to abort you?"

I nodded once.

"Jeez," he grunted, bowing his head. "For god's sake…"

"Did she ever say anything to you? About me? About not wanting me?" I asked.

"Never," he shook his head, his eyes framed with frustration. "I saw she was distant from you, of course I did, but I thought maybe it was depression. She went through a lot when you were born, when your father died. I figured it affected the way she bonded with you, that's all."

"It was resentment," I sighed. "She was stuck with me."

"Annie –"

"I've always known she didn't want me," I continued. "I knew she hated being a mother. I didn't know she actually hated me, though. That's a recent discovery."

"She's your mom," he gulped. "She shouldn't hate you. She has no reason to hate you."

He raised his gaze and looked me in the eyes. My chest tightened as I caught sight of the tears flooding his vision, threatening to spill down his cheeks any second.

"Dad… Please, don't cry."

He blinked hard, trying to keep them at bay. He wasn't successful.

"I'm so sorry," he sniffed. "I didn't think it would end up like this. If I thought things would have turned this sour, I never would have suggested you contact her… I…"

"I only did it because of you," I admitted.

I didn't say this to make him feel bad, but to reveal why I had bothered in the first place.

"I did it because you wanted me to. It meant something to you," I added. "I contacted her because I love you and I'd do anything for you."

"But you walked into a trap," he growled under his breath. He was angry with himself. "Because I –"

"The fact she didn't know I was coming is on Bob," I dismissed his comment. "He kept it from her. That's on him, not you."

"I get why he did it," he sighed. "It's the same reason I wanted you to talk to her."

"You both want this big happy family," I nodded. "But it will never happen. No one can force her into loving me… and I'm past the point of wanting or even needing her love."

He pursed his lips and then proceeded to sink his teeth into his lower lip. He was trying to quell his emotion.

"I should have told you sooner," I said. "Told you why I was so reluctant to speak to her again. You had a right to know the truth."

"It was your truth," he muttered. "Your story to tell."

"You were misled though," I shook my head. "I let you think it was only a minor disagreement that happened when I was a teen, not this huge issue that had been brewing since before I was even born!"

He was quiet for a moment, sliding his fingers up and down his beer bottle.

"Did she ever mistreat you in other ways?" he asked, his voice low and terse.

"Physically?" I checked.

He nodded.

"No," I confirmed. His shoulders sagged forward. "It was all emotional. She would ignore me, snap at me if she was annoyed at me being there, but she never touched me. I was lucky in that way."

"Lucky," he snorted, grimacing. "How the hell is that lucky? What you went through –"

"Christian was physically abused as a kid," I reminded him. "He was tortured for years. I've seen what that has done to him. I am lucky. What I went through is nothing compared to his past."

"You can't compare the two. You can't reduce what you've been through, not because someone apparently had it worse."

"It helps me process things," I shrugged. "I need to think in this way, so please let me. I'm not diminishing my suffering. Rhian would kick my ass if I was."

He managed a small smile at that.

Rhian had pestered me for so long about this issue. I knew what I was doing. I knew this was okay for me to do. That it was healthy for me.

"Dad, I know you only put up with her crap because of me," I said. "And for that, I want to say thank you."

A few more tears made an appearance, a constant stream from his left eye.

"I know you only stayed with her because of me. You could have walked away, but you didn't."

"I was scared she would stop me seeing you," he nodded. "I couldn't handle that."

"You could have adopted me. Why didn't you?"

"She wouldn't let me," he shrugged. My jaw dropped. "When you were three, I asked her if we could make it official but she said no."

"What?" I frowned. "Are you kidding me? She did that!?"

"It damn near killed me," he grumbled. "She point-blank refused. Wouldn't even entertain the idea. She said it was enough that you called me 'dad' and that you had my surname."

"Oh my god! Just when you think she can't stoop any lower!"

"She didn't want to have a different last name to you, that's the only reason she filed the paperwork to have your name changed," he explained. "In case it caused trouble when travelling or something. I was happy enough at the time, I didn't question it, but then I wanted more."

"Did you want a kid of your own?" I wondered.

"I have a kid of my own," he protested. "You've always been mine, Annie. I've never thought of you as anything other than mine."

"You know what I mean," I whispered. "You said you wanted more…"

"We had conversations," he nodded, sighing. "But she didn't want another child. She was adamant. She said she suffered too much during labour with you - she said it went on too long and things got scary at one point. It traumatised her. She freaked out any time I mentioned her coming off birth control."

"Sounds like the added responsibility freaked her out," I rolled my eyes. "Probably didn't want to go another nine months without drinking or sleeping around."

"Possibly," he muttered in agreement. "I didn't mind that we didn't have a child together. I wanted to give you a sibling, that's all. I hated being an only child as a kid. If I had a choice, you'd have had a brother or sister."

He reached across the table and wrapped his hand around mine.

"I just wish you had told me this sooner," he said. "I would have gotten you away from her. I've had taken you and run. Run for the damn hills."

"And you would have been arrested," I shook my head. "You know she would never have let you take me, despite the fact she didn't want me."

"She wanted to control all of us," he nodded. "And I let her. Like the idiot I am."

"Oh, Daddy…"

"What she put you through… the things she did in front of you…" he scowled.

I had told him about the men, the hook-ups and the propositions. The perverts who took pleasure in passing comments about my teenage body.

That had really pissed him off. It filled him with fire.

"You could have told me," he said. "You could have. I would have listened. I would have believed you."

"I know," I choked. "I know, but I felt I couldn't…"

"I would have shot those bastards," he grunted. "Heck, I'd kill Christian in cold blood if he hurts you, and you know how much I love that boy. I wouldn't think twice about it."

"I know you wouldn't ," I nodded.

Christian know that too, I thought to myself.

That's why he treads carefully where Ray is concerned. He knows that he can't come between a daddy and his daughter. That's one line that should never be crossed.

"No one hurts my baby girl," he cried. "I could wring Carla's neck right about now."

"Dad…"

"I saw the best in her when no one else did," he rambled on, shaking his head hard from side to side. "I took her in, I loved her, I respected her and gave her everything she could have wanted. I always put her first. I turned a blind eye to her cheating and –"

He cut himself off abruptly, his tears coming thick and fast and stalling his breaths.

"I've been such a fool," he sniffed, wiping a hand across his face.

I shoved my chair back and rushed around the table.

I stood behind him, throwing my arms tightly around his shoulders, and buried my head into his neck.

"You are not a fool," I told him. I kissed his cheek repeatedly. "Dad, you are an honest, loving man. You see the best in people, you always have."

He reached up and cup the back of my head, holding me to him.

"Carla doesn't deserve either of us," I said. "We're better off without her. So much better without her nastiness and bullshit."

"I don't miss her," he whispered. "I don't miss the arguing or the cheating."

"You miss having company though?"

He nodded, almost cringing at this admission.

I pulled my head away from his and turned his chin towards to me.

"We need to get you back out there," I said, cupping his stubbly cheek. "There's a woman out there who is dying to meet you. Someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved."

"I think I'm too old for all that," he shook his head.

"You're never too old," I pouted. "Who knows, maybe you'll meet someone at the wedding?"

He rolled his eyes, but he smiled nonetheless.

"Don't think what she did to either of us is a reflection on who we are," I urged him. "It's about her, not us."

He smile grew.

"Therapy suits you," he hummed. "You're a stronger woman, far stronger than you've ever been."

"What can I say, Rhian is a miracle worker," I grinned.

"How is she and the baby?"

"They're both doing great," I nodded. "I think Christian and I will go see them again soon. I can't wait for more cuddles with little Joey. He's a gorgeous boy."

"I don't think any baby will be as gorgeous as you were," he reminisced. "You were something else."

I blushed.

I had heard this before, but I enjoyed the way his eyes lit up whenever he was retold this particular story.

"First time I laid eyes on you, you looked up at me with those big blue eyes. Two giant lakes of clear water," he uttered softly. "You were small, wearing this cute white and yellow romper. You were babbling away to yourself, swinging in this little chair thing Carla had got you, but you were staring straight at me. You didn't care about the bunny in your hand. You were focused on me. That moment… that was when I became a father."

In contrast to Carla's house, Ray's home has always been full of pictures of me. His mantle is crowded with baby pictures and embarrassing photos of me throughout the years. From my position, I could see a new addition to the wall opposite – a picture of me and him at my engagement party.

"I'm so proud of you, Annie."

"I'm proud of you too," I said. I kissed his cheek. "Now stop these tears, okay? Because no one deserves them. Least of all your ex-wife."

"You've stopped referring to her as your mom," he noted.

"She might be my mother, but she will never be my mom," I shook my head. "And I'm okay with that. Because I have the best daddy in the world."

He smiled up at me and, right on cue, the sound of the doorbell rippled through the house.

"He does know he can just walk straight in, doesn't he?" Ray asked, a slight furrow in his brow. "He doesn't have to knock or ring the bell every time."

"He knows," I smirked. "But he's trying to be a gentleman. He's still trying to impress you."

"I already gave him my blessing," he shrugged, lifting from the table.

"You could make his life miserable," I retorted. "A lifetime of cold shoulders and death stares…"

Ray chuckled under his breath and left to answer the door. A second passed before I heard Christian voice filter through to my ears.

"Hey –" he hummed, appearing behind me as I stood before the refrigerator, about to grab some more drinks. "I love this perfume on you. You smell good enough to eat…"

I sunk backwards into his hold, resting my head against his chest. I turned my chin to the side and glanced up at him.

He kissed me on the lips. Short and sweet, just a peck in front of my father.

"Missed you," Christian whispered.

"Missed you too," I smiled.

"Good day?"

"So-so," I replied. "You?"

"Better now I'm back with you," he sighed. He had stayed over at the office to wrap up some calls with associates across Asia. He hadn't been looking forward to the conversations, knowing I was across the city having a heart-to-heart with my dad. He wanted to support me, but I had to do this on my own. "So? Have you told him?"

"I have," I nodded.

"And? How is he?"

"Emotional," I revealed. "He's angry and upset."

"It'll take a while for him to come to terms with it," he reminded me.

Grace and Carrick were still trying to process what he had told them about Elena. They still have questions. They still have things they don't understand. I don't know if they will ever fully understand what he went through, but they are trying. They are supporting him. They are coming to terms with the betrayal they, too, suffered.

Ray will struggle to accept that the woman he married and loved was a manipulative, lying, selfish bitch. He saw only one side of her – yes, she was rude and hard with him too, but he never saw the true depths of her cruelty. Because he didn't see it, it makes everything I've told him more shocking.

"But he'll be okay," Christian promised. "He's a Steele, after all."

"Made of strong stuff, huh?" I snorted.

I peeked into the fridge and instantly grabbed two more beers, passing one to him. By the time I turned around, Ray was already propped against a nearby counter.

"Thanks, baby girl," he smiled as I offered him the second bottle. He lifted his focus to Christian. "Busy day?"

"Very," Christian nodded. "Difficult at times, but that's business for you."

"Gotta keep earning those greens," Ray mused. "Especially if you're going to look after my Annie good and proper."

"I promised you I would," Christian smiled. He raised his bottle in salute.

"So, are you two staying for dinner or are you running off and leaving your old man on his lonesome?"

"If you'll have us," I nodded eagerly. "But only if you'll make your famous three cheese, Steele spectacular?"

"Three cheese what?" Christian frowned. "Do I even want to know what that is?"

"It will clog your arteries and give you indigestion," I grinned. "But it will taste incredible. It's Dad's signature dish."

Ray shrugged, but his cheeks pinked up with a blush.

"What my girl wants, my girl gets," he sighed, setting his bottle down and rolling up his sleeves. "I better get cracking."

I clapped my hands in excitement.

"Can I give you a hand?" Christian asked, glancing around the kitchen. "I'm useless and I don't know anything about cooking, but I can follow instructions and wash up."

"You can't cook?" Ray questioned.

"No," he shook his head. "Well, I can do the basics. Toast, scrambled eggs, microwave rice… but that's about it."

"He's terrible in the kitchen," I piped up. Ray's brows shot up. "He could burn water, he's that bad."

"Seriously?"

"Truly awful," I nodded. "But he's a keen learner."

"I am," Christian hummed. "And a part of me would like to learn."

"If you're gonna marry my Annie, you'll need to know how to whip up at least a handful of proper meals," Ray said. He turned around and grabbed two aprons from inside the long cabinet behind him. He tossed one to Christian. "Can't have you relying on Mrs Jones forever, and I won't let my daughter live off takeout."

"No, sir," Christian smiled, dimples pinching his cheeks. He looked to me and gestured to the door. "Go put your feet up. This could take a while."

"Try not to set fire to anything," I teased.

He stuck out his tongue at me and I winked, dragging myself from the room.

I hung around in the hall way, out of view, listening to them talk. They started off discussing the weather, then last night's game, light conversation to pass the time between clattering pots and pans.

"Are you okay?" Christian asked my father.

Ray didn't reply.

"I'm here if you want to talk," Christian added.

"Thanks," Ray grunted back. "Hey… will you promise me one thing?"

"Sure."

"Try not to ruin my good pans, huh?" he huffed. "These babies cost me a fortune."

"I'll try…"

My boys will be fine, I thought to myself. I can rest easy.