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I shrugged. “A few weeks ago. Nothing came of it.” My dad would always be the one thing I couldn’t get right.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Gross inadequacy slithered through my stomach. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Rayne, we’re getting married. You never have to be embarrassed in front of me. We’re in this together.”
And while I appreciated his sentiment, I knew that wasn’t completely true, at least where my dad was concerned. Just as I could never fully feel the pain Remington caused Hale, he would never fully understand the pain my dad caused me. The most we could do is show each other empathy and compassion, so I hugged him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He rested his chin on the top of my head and rubbed his hand up and down my back, spreading warmth through my coat. “There’s no rule that says a dad has to give his daughter away. People are there to see you, not him. No one will miss him if he’s not there.”
Except me, I thought.
“I know. It’s just taking me more effort than I expected. It’s like this officially ends something I always assumed he’d eventually fix.”
He hugged me. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Me too.”
My mind leapt to a different wedding, far away in the very distant future, as I imagined Hale coming out of a set of doors and me watching from the front. Elara, dressed in a cascading white gown, walking by his side. There were good dads and then there were duds.
I no longer wanted to waste energy on the duds.
Truth or Glare
When I returned to Florida, I joined the gym for three reasons. One, I had a wedding in a few weeks, and no matter how much I tried to escape the social pressures and wedding stereotypes, working out on sweaty, metal equipment seemed the bride-like thing to do and the only way to escape the guilt.
Two, my best friend was avoiding me and keeping secrets about a gym rat named Paul. I hoped to meet Paul by accident while at said gym, then Elle would have no choice but to admit to their clandestine love affair and all would be right in the world of BFFs again.
And three, they had a smoothie bar.
I fiddled with the controls of a treadmill that lured me in with the promise of Netflix.
Look, I said I would go. I didn’t say I’d give it my all. I was obviously following the Lazy Bride’s Guide to the altar.
Elle walked on the machine next to me. Her short hair now long—thanks to extensions—and her perfect blonde ponytail swinging side to side above her svelte little hips and toned ass. If I didn’t love her I’d want to punch her for being so damn pretty.
Then there was me, trotting and stumbling along as if someone was tugging me forward by a rope. I fiddled with the controls, setting the speed back to just above standing still.
“So…”
Elle wore ear buds but I was pretty sure she could still hear me as she cranked up the speed and started to jog. There were a lot of men at the gym and none of them wore name tags. I followed her stare to see if she made eye contact with anyone, but she just looked straight ahead.
“So?” she repeated, looking as radiant as a woman in one of those lying tampon ads that portrayed serene females smiling through cramps and the added pressure of a volley ball game.
My eyes narrowed as I studied her. If I stared long enough I assumed I could penetrate this fake façade. It had been weeks. There was avoidance and then there was deception. This was deception and I’d had enough.
Old Elle burped, cursed, ate raw cookie dough, loved celebrity gossip, and even shoplifted once. This one looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, when I knew for a fact it would.
Why was she acting so fake? This superficial phoniness created distance where truth and closeness once existed. Why couldn’t she just be herself around me?
And what the hell was my Netflix sign in? Gah, sometimes I wished we were microchipped so I didn’t have to remember this shit.
Giving up on the television options, I sipped my banana smoothie and stuck to a geriatric pace. Elle continued to bounce along, already closing in on a mile, while I had barely moved.
“So what’s new with you?” I yelled, hoping she could hear me over her music and rapidly thudding footsteps.
She shrugged without losing her rhythm. “Me? Nothing.”
