I wanted to tell her she had nothing to worry about. That Kevin was as safe as a kiddie pool, whereas Ronan was the equivalent of rip tide.
But what did I know? Clearly nothing.
“I’m good, Megs.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Go home to Kev. I’ll call you tomorrow after I wake up.”
“You sure?”
“Go.”
I practically had to shove her away, then closed the door behind me quickly so she couldn’t ask any more questions while I climbed the steps to my apartment. Even the alley cat didn’t have time to come around, looking for food.
I let myself in, expecting quiet and the stale scent of a space not lived in for a few weeks. Instead, I found my dad sound asleep on the pullout with the scent of coffee wafting through the air.
He stirred at the sound of the door closing and sat up. “Laney, sweetie? Is that you?”
I hung the clutch I’d brought with me from the party—I hadn’t dared to go back to Ronan’s house to retrieve my things lest he follow me there—on the coatrack, followed by Megan’s sweatshirt. “Hi, Dad. What, ah, are you doing here?”
He covered a yawn, then shoved a hand back through his thinning hair. “Well, I was supposed to be on a flight back to Arizona after signing those papers, but Megan called. Said you were pretty upset about the whole thing and she was bringing you home.” He looked me over, like I was still a little girl back from the playground with a scraped knee she needed her daddy to fix. “Seemed like I should stick around.”
I sniffed. Then bit my lip. And before I knew it, I had burst into tears.
“Ah, shoot,” said my father as he hopped up from the couch and crossed the room in four quick strides to pull me into his arms.
It only made me cry harder.
“Hush, honey. I’m here. My goodness.” He rocked me back and forth like he hadn’t in years, stroking my hair back from where it had escaped from its bun. “Shoots, kiddo. Your old man really messed up, didn’t he?”
“I—you didn’t—” I could barely get my words out as I stood up from his shoulder and swiped at my tear-stained cheeks. “It wasn’t your fault, Dad. It was theirs.”
“Whose, Laney bug?” He continued to brush my hair out of my face and rub my shoulder. “The Blacks? They said it was what you wanted?—”
“Who, Ronan?” That hurt more than anything. He knew what Mom’s company meant to me. He knew.
He also knew you didn’t want to run it anymore, a smaller voice mentioned.
I scowled. This was no time for logic.
“Well, no,” Dad admitted as he guided me over to the couch, then sat down beside me. “But his brother. His dad. I figured you were on board.” He brushed his hair back again. “I’m so sorry, kiddo.”
“Dad?” The tears had almost stopped now, only continuing when I remembered that this was the longest conversation my dad and I had had in over a year.
“What’s that?”
“Why didn’t you answer any of my calls about the company? We’ve been trying to hire a creative director for weeks.”
When his eyes met mine, I saw for the first time just how tired my father still was. Mom’s illness had left him a shell, so when he moved away and got a tan and started doing things like golf and pickleball on a regular basis, he suddenly seemed so happy.
But there, in his blue-gray eyes, was still the deep grief and pain I saw in my reflection every day.
“At first, it was because I was camping up in Sedona,” he replied, rubbing his jaw. “And then… I just couldn’t, kiddo. I know I’ve been running away from things. I hear it in your voice, your disappointment in me.”
“Dad, no?—”
“But the truth is, I’m ready to let go. Not of you, of course. And if what you really want is to keep the shop open to hold on to your mom’s memory, then I’m all for it. I’ll call a lawyer or do whatever we need to cancel that contract, and we can, I don’t know, order more sweaters or whatever you think she would have liked.”
I giggled. I couldn’t help it. Dad loved my mother, but he didn’t know the first thing about clothes.
“But… is that really what you want to do with your life, Laney?” he pressed. “Give up school to manage a struggling clothing company? Call me crazy, kid, but I don’t think your mom would have wanted that for you either.” He picked up my hand and squeezed. “As crazy as this whole ‘got married in Vegas’ thing was, I was actually kind of relieved. You weregetting out of your box. Seeing the world again rather than living in a memorial. But if it’s still what you want…”
