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Marti tried her best to muster a smile and failed.
Logan, however, smiled ear-to-ear as they chatted like she wasn’t even there. “Cindy is your—”
“Fiancé,” Marti finished for him. She took a long pull on her dry martini, letting the alcohol burn its way down her throat and into her gullet.
Her father’s smile wobbled, but he quickly recovered. “We’re trying to convince Marti to be in the wedding, but she’s so busy, it’s hard to pin her down. I assume you’ll be joining her?”
Marti gritted her teeth. Any second she’d pop a molar. It was all she could do not to scream.
“Yes, I will be her date.” Logan smiled, but it dropped when he turned and took in whatever miserable expression he found plastered all over her face.
“That’s wonderful. We’d be honored to have you there.”
Marti focused on her drink, trying her best to tune them out while her father filled Logan in on her childhood like he was talking to his future son-in-law rather than her fake boyfriend
Just pretend you’re somewhere else. Think of the beach on a hot summer day. Cold cocktails. Snowflakes. Melting ice cream cones. Imagine living on an island where men don’t exist. Now that’s the dream.
“. . . She always wore her hair in pigtails. Always. And she was missing her two front teeth for a long time, until about fourth grade, so we have all these pictures of her, smiling for the camera with no front teeth. And she went through a huge boy band phase.” Her father laughed.
“Really?” Logan’s eyes twinkled.
“It was bad. I took her to her first concert—”
“Dad, what are you doing?” She couldn’t do it. She didn’t have the strength to sit there and pretend she wasn’t completely furious with the situation at hand.
He smiled. “I was just going to tell him about that time we went to see N’Sync.” He glanced at Logan with a grin, then back to her again. “And then I have to tell him about the time we took you out to that farm in Pennsylvania and you rode the horse and fell off. For years, she begged us to get her a horse. Of course, living in the city, it was impossible. So, we decided to try it out, see if she even liked it and then we’d think about leasing one.”
“You can lease a horse?” Logan took a sip of his drink, fully immersed in her father’s stories, suddenly fascinated in equine rental.
Her father nodded. “So we got there, and she hopped on like she’d been riding her whole life, like—”
“Enough!” Marti slammed her fist on the table, rattling the glasses. She sucked in a breath.
The emotion building inside her was a raging storm, waiting to break.
Her father’s eyes shifted to her, wide in his face. Beside her, Logan cleared his throat, a subtle reminder they were in public, but it did little to diminish her anger.
“I don’t want to hear about Cindy or the restaurants you go to. Nor do I want to take a walk down memory lane and talk about my childhood and what I was like.”
“Marti—” Her father started, then he paused, swallowing, his throat bobbing with emotion. But she wouldn’t feel sorry for him. She refused to. What comes around goes around, and for years, he disregarded her. “I was a wreck,” she bit out.
His mouth pinched, speechless. Finally.
“For a really long time I blamed myself. I thought it was my fault you left, that I was to blame. How could I not be? Because Mom was perfect, beautiful and smart. So it had to be me, right?” She paused, hating the way her voice had turned thick, cursing away the tears stinging the back of her eyes, mortified by her outburst.
But these words . . . she had held onto them for too long.
“Finally, when it became too much, Mom told me the whole truth, that your coworker, Francesca,” her voice cracked over the name, “could offer you more. That you left us for her. Mom held off telling me because she was trying to protect you. She didn’t want me resenting you. But her protection wasn’t necessary because you made me resent you all on your own. You cut me off. For almost three years.” When her voice wobbled, she shielded her face with her hand, not wanting anyone to see the tears in her eyes.
“I know I screwed up, but I’m trying to make it better.” Her father reached a hand across the table before he thought better of it.
Marti barked out a laugh, unable to hide her bitterness. “And then when I was eighteen, you wanted to pretend like nothing happened. Talk about a little late. I wonder why I didn’t reciprocate your desire for a reunion? And even then, after disappearing, you barely made an effort.”
“I was trying to give you space. I knew you were angry with me, and I knew it would take some time for you to forgive me. I didn’t want you to feel like I was rushing you.”
Marti stared at the ground by their table—anywhere but at him. “If you really cared, you never would have left in the first place. You wouldn’t have run off with another woman. You would have fought for me. For us. Our family. Or, at the very least, you should have made room for me in your new life from the start, Dad. Not years later.”
“I know. I’m sorry, but . . .” His voice cracked. “I made mistakes. I thought I was helping your mother by staying away. I didn’t deserve her forgiveness, and I knew that. It hurt her to be near me, and so I kept my distance.” Tears slid from his eyes, down his cheeks. His gaze begged, pleaded with her to forgive him.
