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I waited, entirely unable to try such things as affectionate, a good listener, and having a sense of humor on my mother.
None of them fit.
He carried on.
“It was all a ruse. She was as she is now. Cold. And back then, calculating. She did her duty to her family. She carried on the line. And then, frankly, she wanted nothing to do with any of us. Sadly, I was impossibly in love with her by this time and felt in my heart she couldn’t be so thoroughly the woman I married without that woman being somewhere in her. I thought marriage counseling would help, she flatly refused. I suggested therapy to her, she laughed at the thought. I worried something horrible had happened to her that she hadn’t shared, like she’d been assaulted, and that was why her personality changed so completely. But it eventually proved that fortunately, that hadn’t happened, but the rest would be no help. She is who she is. There will be another Marchioness of Norton, and through Blake, or you, the title will sit directly in the bloodline. Her duty was done, and her life was her own.”
“So in the end, for you, all the fighting was because you loved her,” I guessed.
Another nod from Dad, but he said, “Though, not only. My pride was stung. I lost my wife, but in truth, I never had her to begin with. I’d been played. I fancy myself an intelligent man, Alexandra. That was a blow to my ego that was difficult to sustain.” He leaned toward me. “But I should have let it go long ago. Not just for myself, but for you girls.” He tipped his head to the side and his voice was gentler when he asked, “Do you suffer?”
I knew what he was asking.
“Not really,” I replied.
“A girl needs her mother.”
“Dad, I found coping mechanisms ages ago. And I had Grandmother Brooke.” I smiled at him. “I had a father who made it so he could work close to where I escaped, and I figure somehow, that penetrated for me. I made my own life, and I love my life.”
I leaned deeper into him and curled the fingers of both hands on his forearm on the arm of the chair.
Then I finished, “I’m happy.”
“Good,” he whispered.
“Do you have a sense why she fights with you?” I asked.
Unlike the rest of our conversation, he didn’t readily answer.
“Dad?”
“As I said, I don’t like to speak ill of her directly at you.”
My tone was lower when I prompted, “Dad.”
His chest expanded with the heave of this sigh.
Then he said, “It pains me. I’ve considered it quite a bit, especially recently, dealing with your mother and your sister and this wedding. And yesterday, for reasons I’m sure you understand, thoughts of it consumed me. My mind tried other avenues, but I was always directed back to the fact that the truth of it is, your mother is not a nice woman. She is wholly selfish. She is wholly surface. And she isn’t very intelligent. How I was deceived by her for so long I’m afraid has quite a bit to do with my manhood and ego.”
I started chuckling.
He smiled at me.
But he finished, “And my greatest worry is that your sister is quite like her.”
“Yeah,” I agreed and scrunched my nose.
He in turn smiled at me giving him that look, before he chided, “Though, they will always be your mother and sister.”
“Yes, of course.”
“And I will warn you now that she will wish to interfere in whatever festivities you and Rix are thinking about for your wedding.”
Oh no.
I hadn’t thought of that.
“This current affair went well because Blake enjoyed the attention, and Helena enjoyed spending my money. However, we’ll both need to firmly put our foot down so you’ll have what you want.”
“Rix will put his foot down too,” I reminded him.
“That might actually work.”
That was when I started laughing.
When I was getting control of it, I saw Dad was doing it with me.
Really, truly…
That felt so good.
“And that doesn’t even count Mags drawing the line,” I shared.
“Mags?”
“Mags, Rix’s mom. His dad is named Garrison. He’s called Gare.”
“Ah.”
From there, we talked.
We kept doing it even though, eventually, Dad took my hand and pulled me up from my chair.
We continued to do it as he walked me to the door of Rix and my room.
We only stopped doing it when he kissed my cheek and said, “We’ll ride together to the rehearsal, yes?”
“Yes, Dad.”
He pressed his four fingers flat on my cheek in a gesture of affection he’d never made with me before.
And that didn’t feel good.
It felt beautiful.
Then he said, “Enjoy your day, my darling,” and walked away.
I walked into a room that had a boyfriend that was unofficially a fiancé in it who had his hair still wet from his shower and was wearing a sweater over a T-shirt and faded jeans.
