Page 115 of Blue Jean Summer

“Excited. Driven. Passionate.” He cupped my face. “It’s a good look on you.”

Blush tinged my cheeks as I leaned into his touch.

As hurt as I was, I was missing him. That was something new to me—wanting someone even after they did you wrong. I had a hunch it was because Hayes was truly sorry. I could feel it in my bones. But he was showing that he respected my space as I worked through that lingering hurt.

I opened my mouth to respond, but my phone rang. “Sorry,” I muttered as I pulled it out of my back pocket and glanced at the screen. I didn’t recognize the number. “Darlene Elias said she passed on my information to a woman named Heidi who heads up the after-school program that’s run by the charitable organization of the football team they own. This is probably her.” I swiped across the screen to answer. “Hello?”

“Hello, Catherine.”

I froze as the voice from press conference clips from the news echoed in my ear. It was far too upbeat, as if my father were trying to pretend that nothing had happened.

I swallowed and looked at Hayes. “Governor Grant.”

Hayes’s expression morphed from tender to rage. I quickly put the call on speaker so he could hear too.

“There’s no need to be so formal,” he said with a politician’s insincere chuckle. “Call me Maxwell. Or Dad, if you’d prefer.”

Something about hearing him refer to himself as “Dad” made unease prickle across my skin. My chest tightened as acid roiled in my stomach.

Hayes wrapped his hand around mine and squeezed.

“I—um…I’m sorry. I was expecting this call to be from someone else,” I stammered when I couldn’t find the right words.

“That’s alright. I’m sure you’re busy. What with the launch of your social initiative coming up.”

“You know about that?” I blurted out.

Hayes’s jaw locked in a stern frown.

“Of course, sweetheart. I stay up-to-date on things happening in my state. Especially since my daughter became a Wilder.”

I swooned every time Hayes called me sweetheart. It was tender and loving. Hearing it from my father made my head spin with nausea and anxiety. I had always craved hearing my father call me his daughter, but it didn’t sound the way I had always imagined it would.

I wanted to throw up. Saliva filled my mouth, acid burned my throat, and my skin turned clammy. “Yes, things are very busy,” I clipped as heat seared my eyes. I did not want to cry over him, but I wasn’t sure my body was going to heed the request.

“I’d love to be at the grand opening. It’s next week, right?”

It was everything I had ever wanted and something I wanted nothing to do with all at the same time.

Each word was a knife to the gut. Slice after slice, he ripped into me without even trying. Tears rolled down my cheeks, one after the other. Hayes silently slid behind me, wrapped me up in his arms, and pressed a kiss to my head.

I wanted to tell the governor that he wasn’t welcome at the grand opening, but a bigger part of me wanted to be right. I wanted to believe that the father figure I had painted in my mind existed somewhere behind the politician’s mask. That the man who was supposed to want me actually did.

“I can send over the event information to your office if you’d like,” I said.

“Great!” he exclaimed. “Susan would like to come and meet you if that’s alright. Our kids too, though I’m not sure if they’ll be able to make it.”

Hayes stiffened.

Hope grew like morning glories, wrapping around my heart and blossoming with each sunbeam of attention.

“I’d like that,” I cautiously admitted.

His voice turned serious. “There is one more thing, Catherine. As I’m sure you know, the media isn’t being too kind to me. The…information your husband acquired paints me in a rather unfortunate light. It’d be great if the three of us could sit down and have a chat. I’m sure there will be press at your event. How great would it be for the three of us and my wife to show a united front as one big, happy family? Perhaps you and your husband could even make a statement of support on behalf of the Wilder Estate. I’m sure you’ll need additional funding for your program in the future. I can make that happen.”

“Unbelievable.” The whispered word slipped out before I could stop it. He hadn’t even tried to deny the allegations, because he didn’t care.

He truly didn’t care.