“It’s okay.” She moved in close. “I forgive you. I’m just glad to see you again. You look... yummy.” She inhaled. “Smell yummy too.”
“Uh, thanks.” He gulped down half his Coke.
“You know, I broke up with my boyfriend last week.”
His gaze darted around the room, which was now filling up fast. He didn’t recognize anyone to the point where he could escape Cara and go talk to them. He should have just stuck with his mother and Teresa.
“We could”—she ran her finger down the center of his shirt—“Pick up where we left off.”
***
Britt tugged at the index finger of one of her gloves as she gazed at the painting in front of her. Like all the other pieces in the gallery, it was beautiful, and in the classical style. Although there weren’t any museum-quality pieces in the collection, there were some expensive ones, most of them classical, except for two modern pieces—one in each room.
But as she tried to focus on the perfectly rendered eighteenth-century women having a pastoral picnic by a pond, she couldn’t ignore the heightened sounds of people and music downstairs. A few minutes ago, someone had started playing the baby grand in the room near the bottom of the spiral staircase. Lila had offered to give her and Dad a tour of the house in the future when more time permitted. Britt considered that a polite offer—she was sure she’d never see the inside of this house again. She could tell that her father hadn’t believed the woman either. It was a kind gesture, though.
“This one’s nice,” Dad said, sidling up to her.
Britt turned to him. “You’ve said that about all of them.”
“Because it’s true.” He shrugged. “I don’t know much about art.”
“I’ll be happy to teach you.”
“And I’ll be happy to learn.” He glanced at his watch. “We should get downstairs. I don’t want to miss Arthur’s arrival.”
She tugged on her glove again, then put her hands behind her back.
He peered down at her. “I’ll be right by your side, Brittany. Promise.”
“I know.” She looked at the picture again, wishing she could stay up here. There were even a couple of chairs in each room, so people could sit and ponder the art. Or just visit with each other in a lovely setting. “Thanks for arranging this, Dad.”
“You’re welcome, honey. I’m glad I could do something nice for you.” He was staring at the painting again.
She took his hand and squeezed it. When he looked at her, he didn’t have to say anything. All the regrets and apologies for the past were right there in his eyes. He was making up for them now, and not just because he brought her to a fancy house to see art and attend a party. He’d consistently commented on her videos,texted her at least once a day, and they met in person once a week. He had more than proven himself.
She let go of his hand. “I’m going to tell Mom you’re back,” she said.
He turned to her. “Really?”
“Yes. Tomorrow.” She faced him. “I’ll convince her that you’ve changed. Because I believe you have.”
Dad pulled her into a strong hug. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me, Brittany. I won’t let you or your mother down.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she leaned into him. When she put her arms around him, her eyes misted.
“Thank you, Brittany.” He kissed her temple.
The hole in her heart that had been there when he left and had been growing smaller since his return, finally closed.I love you.But before she could say the words, he pulled away.
“Sorry,” he said, looking over her dress. “I didn’t mess you up, did I?”
“No,” she said, blinking back tears. “I’m good.” More than good. She had her father back.
A tall man wearing a white suit jacket, black pants, and matching bow tie entered the gallery. “Ms. Lila requests that you join the party downstairs.”
At his words, her anxiety kicked in. But only a little. Her father was by her side. Everything would be all right.
He guided her toward the door, and they made their way down the grand staircase. Tinkling piano keys mixed with the hum of conversation, the sounds growing louder as she neared the first floor. She could see the whole front room, the dazzling dresses and smart tuxes blending as her heart hammered in her chest. These weren’t her people. Not even close.
