Page 48 of A Texas Hero

“I realize that who you love is a highly personal choice and everyone is entitled to make it for themselves.”

“Awfully mature of you, Daddy.”

Zoey had believed that her father wanted to control her life from a distance, but the facts appeared to be different. He wanted to create a line between his life and hers, so he could protect her from the complications of a public life.

“And I’m sorry about your party.”

“You don’t really remember, do you? About the party Mami and I had every September 14 for Sweetheart Day?”

“I can’t say I do. But September’s the start of football season, honey. You probably don’t remember all the days I missed being with y’all. Sometimes you came with me, but once you started school that was tougher. It was just you and your mami then, and I know she tried to keep you entertained so you wouldn’t notice that I was gone all the time.”

The start of football season. No wonder it wasn’t a clear memory for him.

“I can’t believe this is just now dawning on me. Of course you weren’t around for the party.”

“I think I might’ve made one or two over the years. But I always thought it was kind of your mom’s thing. Something she did to connect with you.”

“Did you know I’ve been having one every year since she’s been gone? Except this year.”

There was a long beat of silence before he sighed.

“Maybe you can find another way to honor her memory.”

Zoey already had, with the boutique and her mission to make low-cost designer wear available to the average consumer. She had so many ways to remember her mother, in all the memories they’d made over the years. Not just Sweetheart Day but all the trips they took together over the years, laughing at the over-the-top fashions shown on the runways. Mami would want her to be happy and stop putting an emphasis on only one thing, when life was comprised of so many other celebrations.

The party was one small thing, one memory out of hundreds, and Zoey had made too much out of it for far too long.

Chapter Eighteen

Archer surveyed the calm blue water in Zoey’s pool. With the mild autumn temperatures, he’d be lying to say it didn’t look inviting. He hadn’t been swimming with the new foot, but he should be able to, according to the doctors. There were many things he hadn’t tried yet, and swimming was only one of them.

He felt lighter now that Zoey would soon know the truth straight from her father’s mouth. While he commiserated with the man, he’d never believed that withholding the truth would deliver a desired outcome. But he didn’t have a daughter. His poor father had four, and Archer swore the man started graying when Archer’s oldest sister turned fourteen. The sense of protection ran deep in Rossi men.

“Whatever you do, do not have daughters, figlio,” he’d said, shaking his head, clasping his hands together in prayer. “You will live longer.”

As if Archer had any control over that. From watching his own family dynamics, he understood that the relationship between fathers and daughters could be a difficult balance. He wondered how Patch Lambert handled his fiery and fiercely independent daughter, because he wouldn’t get away with telling her anything but the truth.

When he walked back inside, Zoey was bent by the fireplace moving the pile of decorative pumpkins and gourds over to the side.

“I decided that I want to roast marshmallows,” she said, turning to him.

“It’s seventy degrees outside.” Still, he joined in helping her move her display.

“That’s why I turned up the air conditioner,” she said, and Archer thought maybe he’d heard wrong.

“You’re supposed to wait until it’s cold enough to make a fire.”

“That’s not how Texas works. I need a little pick-me-up, and I want something to make me feel like it’s truly autumn, and I’m tired of waiting for the rain.”

“All these pumpkins, orange lights and leaves aren’t doing it? What about the pumpkin spice you put in everything?”

She made a face. “That’s a good start, but fires are cozy. I’m indulging in a little self-care today, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay,” he said, putting up his palms in an “I give up” gesture. “You had to forgo the party, I get it. You deserve to get what you want. I’ll take care of this.”

“I’ve got the fire logs,” she said, going to the closet nearby and pulling one out with a smile.

“Don’t you want a real fire? A roaring fire?”