Page 122 of The Holiday Makeover

He turned toward me, and for a second it was like seeing an older version of me in a mirror. One with more lines around the eyes and gray in the hair.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But not the way you think.”

I waited.

“As hard as it has been for me to admit, your mother has made me see everything I’m on the brink of losing. And that’s the last thing I want.” His gaze held mine. “You may not believe it, but you and your mother mean the world to me. I know I haven’t shown that the way you needed me to. Or the way I should have. But it’s true.”

His jaw worked.

“That said, I know I have some changes to make. Changes that won’t be easy for me.” He let out a heavy breath. “But I hope you’ll give me the chance.”

I stared at him, wanting to believe him. Maybe even needing to.

But there was one thing I had to know.

“How are you going to feel if the show gets canceled?” I asked. “Or if they don’t renew my contract? Or if I decide I’d rather go back to being a contractor and working for myself?”

Dad gave me an odd sort of grin. “I’d ask if I could hire you. I’ve always wanted a billiard room.”

“Just so you know, I don’t give family discounts,” I said wryly.

“Smart man.” He reached over and clapped my back. Then he paused, his hand still there. “Smarter than me.”

That felt meaningful. And maybe like a good start.

“Are we done with the rainbows-and-sunshine moment?” I joked. I wasn’t used to these kinds of heart-to-heart talks with my dad. I needed to ease into them.

Dad took a breath before saying, “Almost.”

I looked over at him.

“I love you, son.”

I couldn’t remember the last time he’d said those words to me. They had me choked up, but I managed to say, “I love you too.”

Dad patted my back once more and let his hand drop.

We both seemed equally grateful to hear my mom and Rory coming down the stairs, talking. I made out something about baking Christmas cookies, and then my mom commented on how beautiful Rory’s ring was.

But the most interesting part was Rory’s response.

“You know, at first I wasn’t sure I would love it,” she said. “It’s not really me. But my friend Lily said that sometimes, for men, the ring reflects them too. And I love Tate. I want him to feel good about it.”

And I suddenly felt like the luckiest man in the world.

“The more I thought about it,” Rory continued, “the more I loved what the ring symbolizes.”

“What’s that?” Mom asked.

Rory’s voice lowered.

“That we never really let go.”

A look passed between Dad and me, and I think we both knew that was what loving someone really boiled down to: not letting go, even—maybe especially—when it was difficult.

But being the men we were, we didn’t say any of that and instead both stood and practically ran for the women and the promise of Christmas cookies.

Chapter Thirty-Nine