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“How are you feeling?” Jonah whispered in my ear while we sat on the couch together and watched all the chaos around us. Brock and Dani were trying to entertain Whitney by playing chess with her. She was wiping the floor with them even though Brock and Dani had teamed up. Brant was helping Kinsley in the kitchen with the food, and Grandma and Grandpa were both pacing the apartment shooting daggers with their eyes at Dean. Introducing them was awkward. It was like saying, here’s the man who knocked up your baby girl.
“Stunned. Almost like I’m in a dream.” I kept staring at the letters and manila envelope on the coffee table, itching to go through each one while also wanting to put it off.
“It’s quite the Christmas surprise,” Jonah replied.
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Hey,” Jonah kissed my nose. “I’m here for you.”
“I know. I’m just trying to process. It’s hard not to think about the could have beens. How the balance of my life hinged on a name and a phone call.”
“True, but,” he took my hand and kissed it, “those all brought you to me. And as much as I hate what you’ve been through, I’m so happy we’re together.”
“Me too. Not for all the hell, but for you.”
“Well,” Dean interrupted us by taking the floral seat next to us, “Sabine promised to hold off roasting the goose.” He grinned. “Her grandparents are from Germany and it’s a traditional Christmas meal. Her hot spiced wine and apple tart aren’t bad either.”
“Sounds delicious,” I responded, not sure what else to say. It was weird we were talking about normal things like food.
“It is. I hope, actually, that . . . what I mean to say is, Sabine, and of course Maxwell and Sebastian, would love for you to visit soon and try it for yourself.”
Jonah and I looked to each other, both dumfounded.
“I know it’s sudden,” Dean stuttered, “but I just found out I have a daughter, and I would like to get to know her.” There was this look of adoration and awe in his eyes when he looked at me. He turned to Jonah. “We would be happy to have you too. Just name the dates and I’ll secure the travel arrangements. Maybe for New Year,” he blurted nervously.
That was in less than a week.
“Uh . . .”
“Think about it,” Dean pled. “The boys have to go back to school at the beginning of January and my father would like to meet you as well.”
I squeezed Jonah’s thigh with the mention of Roger Stanton.
Dean’s eyes drifted toward my grip on Jonah. “I know you have every good reason not to meet him, but he isn’t long for this world and perhaps meeting him would allow all of us to begin to heal from this ordeal.”
I released Jonah from my clutches. “I’ll think about it.”
Dean stood. “I hate that I need to leave already, but I feel like I’ve intruded long enough.”
I stood as well, which meant Jonah did too. He was ever protective, and I loved him for it.
Dean gave me a good once over. “Your pictures didn’t do you justice. You are more beautiful than I imagined. I hope this will be the first of many get-togethers,” he laughed, “for lack of a better word. Do you mind if I hug you?”
Did I? I supposed not. He was a victim too.
That alerted my grandparents, who stopped their pacing and darted toward us. Their eyes were keenly on us. It made it all the more awkward, like I was betraying them somehow. My head bounced between my father and my grandparents. Thankfully, Grandpa flicked his head as if he was giving me the green light. I edged closer to Dean. He gave me one more good look before he wrapped his arms around me. At first I was stiff, but it was like shaking his hand—another piece clicked into place, and I relaxed and put my arms around him.
“Ariana,” he whispered, “I’m sorry for all the time we’ve lost. I know nothing I can say will make up for what my father has stolen from us, but I will do whatever I can to see that we forge a good father-daughter relationship, if you are amenable. If not, I will take friendship.”
I rested my head on his shoulder and soaked in his scent. He smelled fatherly, like old aftershave and coffee, just like his handkerchief. It was so different than smelling Jonah or even my grandfather. While my senses memorized him, my heart reminded me I had wished for this day. I had wished for him, even if he wasn’t a prince.
“I think I would like that,” I eked out. Dr. Morales would be so proud.
He patted my back. “Good. Good. Please think about visiting. Sabine loves to play hostess.”
