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“Yeah, but I was gutted first,” I argue, my voice cracking.
“Shh.” He pulls me closer. “You’re right. You were. But don’t you think we’ve done enough mourning for our past? And without either of us being gutted by our breakup, I never would’ve had Grady. And I can’t imagine my life without him.”
Neither can I.
“Our path was a rocky one, but I wouldn’t change it,” he rasps. “It gave me my son. It gave you a chance to shine on your own. And it brought us back together. That’s enough for me. But I understand if you need closure from your dad before this is enough for you too.” He nudges my phone a few inches closer to me on the counter. “I’m letting you out of the one-hundred-percent legally binding contract from the message.” His smirk softens. “And when you’re ready, come find me.”
“Okay.”
The floor creaks softly as Owen exits the kitchen. Then, I unlock my cell and call my dad.
“Hey, Sweet Pea,” he answers after the second ring.
I bite my lip to keep from whimpering into the speaker, then wipe under my nose.
His deep sigh speaks louder than a damn blow horn. “He told you, didn’t he.”
I hold my breath but refuse to answer him. I don’t know what to say. Honestly, I don’t even know what I expect from this phone call. It’s not like I want to rehash things. I don’t even need an explanation. I was eighteen, for Pete’s sake. Of course, he’d be hesitant to give my boyfriend permission to give me a promise ring. I was young and stupid. And so in love that I would’ve followed Owen anywhere. Was it wrong of him to want me to make my own dreams? Even when it almost killed me?
There’s so much gray in the situation that I barely know what’s up and what’s down anymore.
“I’m so sorry, baby girl,” he whispers.
With my eyes squeezed shut, I let out a shaky breath and nod even though he can’t see me.
“So damn sorry, Saylor,” he repeats.
I shake my head, then reach for the tissue box on the counter and dab one at the corner of my eyes before crumpling the saturated Kleenex into a ball.
He tries again. “I love you.” His voice is so thick with regret that I’m afraid we’ll both choke on it.
Owen’s right. My dad has carried this guilt for too long. Just like Owen carried his, and I carried mine.
And I’m so damn tired of regret. And guilt. And everything else that’s managed to weigh me down over the years.
I need to let it go.
All of it.
“I love you, too, Dad.” I force the oxygen from my lungs. “I’m sorry too. And it’s okay. I forgive you.”
His sigh mingles with the familiar groan of his rocking chair as he collapses into it. “I don’t deserve it, baby girl.”
“Yeah, you do,” I breathe. “You’re the best dad a girl could ever ask for.”
“And you’re the best daughter a father could ask for. Just don’t tell your sisters I told you that,” he adds dryly.
The laugh that bubbles out of me feels good. Cleansing, almost.
He returns it with one of his own. “Happiness suits you, Say. I’m sorry I was involved with you losing it for so long.”
“You don’t need to apologize again––”
“I need to apologize for another decade before I even come close to earning your forgiveness.”
“Not true,” I argue. “I think Owen’s right. We need to move on, and we need to soak up the future that’s brighter and more promising than anything I could’ve imagined.”
“He’s a good one, Say,” my dad rumbles, though I doubt he knows how much his words mean to me.
