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If a dad can’t see his daughter at her worst, who can?I sigh and get up to let him in. When I swing the door open, his hand is covering his eyes. “It’s fine, you can look,” I tell him, returning to the couch and my tub of espresso ice-cream.
I hear him close the front door then his heavy footfalls approach the living room. He steps into view and takes a seat on one of the armchairs across from me, leaning his elbows on his knees as he sizes me up.
“Spit it out,” I say, fully aware this is about my mini tantrum this afternoon.
His eyes intent on me, he starts, “I—” but then he pauses, dropping his gaze to the rug beneath the coffee table. “I’m sorry I didn’t handle things better when your mom passed.” His normally strong voice is ragged and thick with emotion.
A lump instantly forms in my throat, I wasn’t expecting him to go there. He doesn’t talk about that time. Ever.
He clears his throat, keeping his gaze averted. “You were right this afternoon when you called it devastating heartbreak. That’s exactly what happened to me. I should have kept it together better though, for you girls. I should have shielded you from it. But I didn’t and I’m sorry Belle.”
When he lifts his eyes to mine, it’s a struggle to swallow. I shake my head. “Daddy no. You did good. Really, you have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Yes, I do. See, me falling apart made you girls see love as a bad thing. And that’s the farthest thing from the truth. It was loving your mom that saved me in the first place. She gave me something worth living for, not just in her, but in you girls.” He licks his lips and clasps his hands together between his spread knees.
Then he smiles, a true and genuine smile. The one he gets when he’s thinking about her. “She was the best thing that ever happened to me. Then she gave me five more bests. I’m a lucky son of a bitch to have had her in my life for as long as I did. I don’t regret a minute of time I spent with her, because she loved me as fiercely as I loved her.”
“I know I was only a girl when we lost her, but I saw it. The love. I saw the devastation too. But you did nothing wrong; you were grieving. I don’t fault you for it. None of us do. I don’t think I would be able to handle it as well as you did.” I swallow again, my throat aching from the intensity of my emotions.
Dad shakes his head, a sad smile tipping his lips, and sympathy shining in his blue eyes. “We don’t know what we can handle until we have to princess. And I’m mad with myself for not noticing how much I screwed up you girls perception of love and its importance in life.”
“You didn’t—”
“I did. And I’m trying to make up for it now. You are in love with Valentine, Belle. You have been since you were a little girl. Your mom used to joke about the day you’d end up dragging that boy down the aisle. But he’s just as mad about you, so I don’t think there’ll be too much dragging going on.” He chuckles at his own joke while I gape at him.
“I don’t remember her saying anything like that,” I argue.
He snorts. “That’s because you were off teaching Val how to play your video games, too busy to pay us any mind. I know he’s your best friend. But it’s okay for him to be more than that too.”
I shake my head. “I already told you Val doesn’t see me like that.”
“You’re so smart Belle, the smartest person I know, but you have some hairbrained ideas.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand.
He puts on a feminine voice as he repeats my words back to me, “Val doesn’t see me like that.” He chuckles and shakes his head.
I arch a brow, unimpressed with his attempt at humor. “He doesn’t.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay princess.”
“He doesn’t,” I insist, throwing my hands up.
“Let’s agree to disagree on that, but it doesn’t change the fact that you love him,” he says, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest, a smug smirk on his face.
I narrow my eyes. “I don’t love him. I just… I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
“Only because you’re making it that way. I’m telling you right now he’s mad about you, but you’re too caught up in that big brain of yours to see it. Have you ever tried talking to him about your feelings?”
My nose wrinkles. “Eww, no. That would make things weird between us. I mean, that’s if I did have these supposed feelings.”
Dad’s brows furrow as he frowns at me. “That’s it? That’s what your worried about? What if he feels the same way? Did you ever consider that?”
I shove a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth and shrug.
“Belle,” he says, tone serious.
“Yeah,” I mumble mouth still full.
