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The room erupts in applause. Mom pulls me in for a hug, and then Greer is yanking me against her. It’s my turn to wobble on my skates.
It’s her turn to steady me.
“Since when do you call me baby?” I murmur, kissing her lips.
She smiles. “Since now. You like it?”
“I love it.”
Greer releases me to hug Mom. I turn, hoping to see Dad approaching.
But instead, I see him walking back out the door.
My heart does that falling thing again.
Hurt.
Confusion.
Anger.
It’s a potent combination.
I excuse myself and skate like hell for the door. Blinking, I push out into the parking lot. The sinking sun bathes the pavement in gold, making it shimmer. I hold up my hand against the glare, my skates rolling to a slow stop.
Dad is walking away from me. Presumably toward the big ass BMW sedan at the back of the parking lot.
“Hey!” I push off my back skate. “Where the hell are you going?”
He slows and looks over his shoulder. His eyes are narrowed. Mouth twisted in a scowl.
Fury overtakes me. My skates hurtle over the pavement, the sound they make a rumbling scratch I feel inside my head.
Is Dad really walking away?
Is he really that much of an asshole?
“Seriously.” I slow when I pull up beside him. “What the fuck is your deal? You’re really going to walk out of a fundraiser honoring your dead daughter? All because my girlfriend is there? You know, if someone ever did that to Lizzie . . .”
That finally makes him stop. I stop too, nearly lurching ass over teakettle before Dad grabs my arm. He looks at me, one eye screwed up against the sun.
“Too much.”
I blink, more confused than ever. “What?”
“It’s all—” His turn to blink. That’s when I see that his cheeks are wet. His hand, still on my arm, tightens. “I thought I could handle it. Being in there. Hearing you talk about Lizzie. But then Greer—”
“You’re not allowed to say her name. Not until you apologize for all the horrible shit you’ve said about her.”
Dad closes his eyes and heaves a sigh. His shoulders fall. He cups his nose with his fingertips. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I stare at him for a full beat, the words not sinking in. “Explain,” I manage.
“You’re right about her. Greer. I was wrong. I don’t know what I was expecting when we walked into this place.” He opens his eyes and motions toward Kate’s. “But hearing Greer talk about you . . . talk about Lizzie . . . seeing this incredible event y’all put together . . .” He shakes his head. “Clearly the two of you are a force to be reckoned with. I was wrong,” he repeats.
I’m still staring at him. My heart in my throat.
“I fucked up so badly with your sister,” he says thickly. His Adam’s apple bobs. “I didn’t want you to slip through my fingers too. But I ended up holding on to you too tightly. I was trying to control your future to make sure we all had futures. It backfired. I was wrong.”
Gliding closer to him, I reply, “You keep saying that. I’m not sure I believe you.”
“He’s telling the truth.”
I glance over my shoulder at the sound of Mom’s voice. She’s quickly approaching, Greer wobbling on skates at her side, both of them holding up their hands to their eyes against the sun.
“How do you know that?” I ask. Dad, reading the room for once, drops my arm so I can skate to Greer and grab her hand.
Mom is out of breath. “All it took was one pretzel.”
“One pretzel?”
Dad nods at Greer. “The chocolate ones Greer made. She brought some to the house and left them with your mother. Your Mom made me take a bite . . . and I knew.”
“Knew what?” I ask, slipping an arm around Greer’s waist.
“That I couldn’t lose you the way I lost your sister,” he replies. He looks at Greer. “That maybe it was time to welcome a new daughter into my life.”
Greer looks back. “All that from one chocolate-covered pretzel?”
“It was a damn good pretzel. The combination of salty and sweet . . .”
“The best,” I manage.
She smiles. “Thank you.”
Dad tilts his head toward me. “Brooks and Lizzie—they got their sweet tooth from me, you know.”
“I didn’t know that,” Greer says. “It is a pretty epic sweet tooth.”
Mom gently nudges my girlfriend with her elbow. “Which is why it’ll be so great to have a professional baker in the family.”
“My pants’ll hate it,” Dad says with a groan. “But I won’t.”
Greer’s whole face lights up. She glances at me. Is this really happening?
I duck my head and kiss her. It’s really happening.
“I’m not a big hugger,” Dad continues, “but Greer, if you’ll allow me—”
“Yes!” she tries to launch herself into Dad’s arms, but ends up tripping on her skates instead. She lets out a yelp. I grab her. Carefully guide her into Dad’s waiting embrace. He lets out a happy little chuckle, even though I can see a fresh round of tears spilling down his face.
