As he slipped past her, she inhaled earthy notes of soil and sandalwood. The strong urge to hug him struck her a second time, but she didn’t act on the impulse. They hadn’t hugged since her childhood. She used to bury her face in the curve of his shoulder, her little hands wrapped around his neck. She’d felt so safe, so content. Now, all these years later—after decades of emotional distance—she had no idea how to initiate something as intimate as an embrace. And even if she did, how would he react? Would he hug her back?
She led her father into her apartment, trying to recall if he’d ever stepped foot inside her home before. Only once, that she remembered, shortly after she’d bought the café. The previous owner had offered her a generous arrangement that had allowed her to pay off the purchase price in installments over a ten-year period. Partly because she’d worked as a dedicated employee since high school, and partly because the owners were eager to retire near their grandchildren in Michigan.
As she’d given her parents a tour of the café and upstairs apartment, excitedly detailing all her hopes and dreams for revamping the run-down space, she’d been so proud to show her father what she’d accomplished at such a young age. Notmany women ran their own business before the age of thirty. But rather than extoll his praise, he’d spent the afternoon glued to his phone, distracted by updates from the team at his latest dig site.
At the memory, a surge of disappointment threatened to resurface, but she stifled the unwanted sentiment. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Water would be wonderful. Thank you.” His gaze swept her apartment, surveying the cozy, mismatched furniture and eclectic decor, including her framed vintageStar Trekartwork. “Nice place.”
“Thanks.” She filled two water glasses in the kitchen, strangely nervous as her father settled on the couch. What did he want to talk about?
From his perch on the opposite armrest, Spock raised his hackles, eyeing the intruder with a skeptical scowl.
“Still as friendly as ever, eh, Spock?” Her dad tried to pet the frosty feline, but Spock hissed, and he withdrew his hand.
CeCe stifled a laugh at the cat’s overprotective behavior. She may be willing to mend fences with her father, but Spock was slow to forgive.
She handed her dad a water glass then sat beside him on the couch, a cushion’s distance between them.
Spock nudged her arm as if to ask if she was all right. She scratched his head in response. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she told her dad tentatively, “but what are you doing here?Howare you here?”
He sipped his water then smiled. “It’s amazing how quickly you can get somewhere in a private jet.”
“A private jet?” she repeated, still not understanding.
Her father’s eyes twinkled. “That boyfriend of yours sure knows how to travel in style.”
“Boyfriend?” Nothing her father said made any sense. “Wait. Are you talking aboutJayce?”
“I sure hope so. Unless you have another boyfriend with a private jet I don’t know about.”
CeCe gulped her water, trying to wrap her head around the news. Jayce had flown to South America to see her father? Why hadn’t he told her?
“I deduce from your expression that you weren’t apprised of his plans?” her father asked.
CeCe shook her head, reeling as another realization struck her. With Jayce in South America, he’d missed the award ceremony in Los Angeles. And his meeting with the producer. Her heart squeezed at his selflessness, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about such a generous gesture. Touched? Grateful? Guilty? Distressed by how much he’d sacrificed for her sake?
“What did Jayce tell you?” she asked, wondering what had possessed him to do something so drastic—and potentially detrimental to his career.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” CeCe balked. “He traveled all that way and saidnothing?”
“He asked me a question.”
CeCe raised both eyebrows, silently indicating she expected further explanation.
Her father set his glass on the coffee table, his countenance solemn. Shifting on the cushion to face her, he met her gaze. “He asked me what went through my mind the moment the excavation site collapsed.”
“I don’t understand.” CeCe frowned. “Why did he need to hop on a plane to ask you that?”
A knowing smile teased the corners of his mouth. “There may have been a bit more to our conversation, but I’ll leave the restfor Jayce to tell you. For now, all you need to know is Jayce’s question made me reassess my life in a profound way.”
“How so?” she asked cautiously, not daring to hope.
“They say when a person faces their final moments on earth, their life flashes before their eyes. Most notably, their deepest regrets,” he said. “I expected my greatest regret to be related to my work—that I have yet to make the one career-defining discovery. Instead—” His voice cracked, his formerly rich, smooth baritone now a rough, dry croak, as if he’d swallowed sand.
“Instead,” he said again, with considerable effort to keep his words from warbling. “My one and only regret was that I hadn’t spent more time with you and your mother. That I may never get another chance to see your face or hear your laugh.”
