Page 41 of Parentmoon

“Why? If she loved you . . .” I know how Dallas loves his daughter. If he gave half that attention to a woman plus the fullness of his sexuality, there is no way he wasn’t a complete package for marriage. For love.

Dallas is already shaking his head, adamantly denying my statement. “She didn’t.”

Why not? I want to scream, raising my fist to the idiot who let him go. But I don’t ask, because who wants to recall a list of disapproval from someone else. Screw her.

“Who?” I whisper, but anger fills the quiet plea.

“Katherine.”

While my forehead should furrow in confusion, and brows lift in shock, I’m not half as surprised as I thought I’d be. Katherine is very self-centered, selfish and a complete idiot with regard to Dallas. “Yet you raised Keli together.”

“Oh-ho,” his voice drops deep and heavy with sarcasm. “Katherine did everything to keep me from my baby girl, at first. She even married her first husband and pulled some adoption bullshit on me. I was not signing over my kid, though.” His fist clenches on the countertop again. “When Katherine and Elliott divorced, Katherine wanted me back, but her chance was gone. I’d already asked her once, and she’d told me I wasn’t enough. I didn’t have it in me to give her a second chance.”

He pauses and the depth of his hurt wounds me. The fierce impression that second chances are not given by him is also made.

“Keli is the only girl who truly wanted me in her life, and she’s the only one I’ve needed.”

The harshness strikes a blow in my chest.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Asking him to sign away his rights to Keli was extremely unfair, especially as Dallas stands before me, saying how much he wanted his child, proving over the course of her twenty-six years that he’s been there for her.

“Yeah, well, it was a long time ago. You let that shit go.” His tone is still rough, angry even as he swipes a hand over his head as if wiping away the bad memories. “I focus on the good side of my life. My daughter.”

“Do you, though?” I stare at him in his agitated state. Has he let Katherine’s betrayal go? Does he still believe he isn’t good enough? That there hasn’t been a rather extensive list of women willing to give him all he might need, prove he’s more than enough?

“Do you?” He counters, tipping up his chin at me. “You’re holding onto this bullshit that you’re a failure at marriage when you didn’t flunk out. He failed you. That’s on him.”

“Maybe,” I counter, still full of shame at Craig’s betrayal and treatment, as if I caused those things to happen. “But you’re holding onto a sense of unworthiness from a woman who values shoes more than her daughter’s opinion. She shouldn’t have been married once, let alone three more times. She’s the fool who let you go, and her foolishness will be someone else’s fortune one day.”

My chest heaves, voice rising. Does he not see we are the same? We’ve both been conditioned to think we aren’t enough for someone who, in the end, wasn’t worthy of us.

Dallas stares at me a moment, as my outburst settles between us. “There is no maybe about you, Jo.” His tone is harsh, fierce even. “You’re fucking perfect and your ex is a tool for not seeing it.”

My eyes prickle at the sudden compliment. I bite my lower lip. “That’s nice of you to say.” Blinking back the sting of tears, I look away. “And Katherine is an idiot.”

“I’m not just saying it.” Dallas moves round the counter and shifts my stool until I’m facing him. With his hand cupping my jaw, his voice lowers, while still rough and earnest. “You’re a once in a lifetime, darlin’.”

He’s so incredibly sweet sometimes. My throat is thick, and I swallow the lump, pushing back the tears that want to shed.

“You’re pretty great, too. Dragon slaying and all.”

“It was only a goddamn lizard.” He softly chuckles, his tone lightening. “But I’ll fight any demon you want.”

Jesus, he was so good at the charm, and I am falling for every prince-like moment. Hook, line, and sinker. I’m a willing catch, and I don’t want to be released. At least, for now. We only have now.

I cup his cheek with one hand and draw him down to me, kissing him slow and sweet and grateful.

He is fighting demons, scaling solid walls, and winning me over more than he knows.

But who fights his demons?

+ + +

“Get dressed,” he says once he breaks our kiss. “We’re going out.” His tone suggests my bad mood has transferred to him, but I do as he asks, not wanting to wallow in the house.

The major mode of transportation on Belize is by golf cart. Dallas rents one from the main desk. He’s warned about driving in the dark as the roads aren’t well lit, but he assures Rosita we have hours of sunlight to guide us.

Driving into town, we’re quiet as we jostle and jiggle over roughly paved streets, where deep divots rival the teeth-clacking turns. Dallas is a steady driver but it’s still a bumpy ride and my insides are a mix of rum punch and wine that threatens to make a re-appearance.