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MARTI ARRIVED AT THE ceremony five minutes late.
She hurried down the side aisle, trying her best to tread lightly and attract as little attention as possible. When she stopped by the reserved pew for family, she squeezed past her Uncle Jim and her Aunt Penny, bumping their knees in the process and earning some rather dirty looks from the people in the pew behind them. Even Grandma McBride peered at her with disdain.
In front of the alter, flanked by dozens of flowers, her father caught her eye and smiled. He wore a black suit and his bride wore a pale pink dress. Despite everything—their past and her pushing him away—he wanted her there. And for the first time in a long time that meant something.
Marti watched as he and Christy exchanged vows in a short ceremony, trying to come to terms with the man she thought he was and the one her mother described. She had a million questions; some she may never get answers to. Had they gone to counseling like he wanted, would things be different? Would her parents still be together? Would she still be so afraid to love?
She grew up believing love was a broken, brittle thing. That those who love you will inevitably leave. How different would things be had she learned forgiveness, perseverance, and trust? That love trumps all, if you just put in the work.
“You may now kiss your bride,” the preacher pronounced.
Her father grinned, his brown eyes sparkling under the soft light as he tipped his bride back, sealing their vows with a kiss.
Marti reached up to her cheek as she watched, shocked to find her hand damp with tears.
By the time she got to the reception, a weight the size of an elephant sat on her chest. Logan’s absence was everywhere—in the empty seat beside her, his place card, in the guest book where she signed her name. A selfish part of her still hoped he’d come. It was a stupid thing to wish when she had made it perfectly clear she chose her career over him.
She ripped her gaze away from the dance floor, trying to forget how they danced at the gala. The feel of his hand burning through the skin on her lower back. The shift of his hips. The sound of his voice as it vibrated through her chest. Things were simpler then, the rules clearly defined. None of them broken.
“Hey, peanut.”
She turned to the sound of her father’s voice, grateful for the distraction from her thoughts. When he reached half-heartily for a hug, she embraced him, and he froze—probably expecting her to push him away like she always did.
“Congratulations, Dad,” Marti managed, her throat tight.
“I thought maybe you weren’t coming.”
“So did I.” Then she grinned. “Sorry I was late.”
“Better late than never.” He winked and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Where’s Logan?” His gaze darted to the empty seat beside hers.
Her smile evaporated. “He couldn’t make it.”
“That’s too bad.”
With a deep breath, she asked, “Dad, why didn’t you tell me? About Mom? How she threatened you and made you stay away?”
His brows shot up, clearly not expecting this. After a moment, he said, “I hurt her.”
“It’s not that simple, is it?” She finally understood. “You wanted to try and she didn’t, which is okay. She had that right, but then she used me against you. To punish you and keep you away.” Her mother hadn’t used those words, but Marti knew it was the truth.
His eyes glistened. “I figured I deserved it. What I did, it trumped anything she did to me, and it ruined everything. I couldn’t forgive myself, much less expect anyone else to. So I waited until you were out of the house. I gave her space.”
“But by that time, I wanted nothing to do with you. Oh, Dad,” Marti murmured, then buried her face in her hands. She wished she could press rewind. If she could, maybe her heart wouldn’t have hardened against him.
She squeezed her eyes closed, forcing the lump in her throat down with a hollow ache. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He took her hand. “You can go round and round asking yourself what if, and it won’t do any of us any good. Let’s move forward with no regrets. That is all I could ever ask for.”
Marti nodded even as her stomach squeezed with regret. You can’t fail if you don’t try.
She blinked as comprehension dawned. She needed to move forward. No regrets. And if she did as Blue asked and shut Logan out, she’d regret it. At the very least, she needed to try. She owed it to herself, to him.
He might hurt you.
You might fail.
Or maybe not.
