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He absorbs this in silence as we walk the perimeter of the pool. Night has fallen so the automatic lights shine under the water's surface. When a faint breeze stirs the otherwise still water, the light ripples across his pensive face. “It's not easy to drop a habit you've had for years.”
“You mean the habit of hating him? I'm going to have to ask you to try.”
“I am.”
“Can I tell you something? Something important.”
“Always.”
I can do this. I can make it through this. “Remember I told you he was going to help find out what happened to Mom.” His jaw tightens before he nods.
I come to a stop and turn to face him, taking his hands in mine. “He found out. We know who killed her.”
His eyes move over my face. “You're serious? You aren't just telling me what you know I need to hear?”
“I'm serious. He guessed it had something to do with his business—someone who wanted to clear the path and make things easy for them to strike a deal. I don't know any of the specifics. He doesn't tell me those things, and I honestly don't want to know.” I pretend not to notice the way he scowls. “But he followed that hunch and asked around.”
I have to fight against the sudden tightness in my throat, being that this is where Ken comes in. But I won't tell him. I can't. It would break his heart. It's already broken mine enough.
“So? Who was it?”
“It was a man named Salvatore Costello.”
His expression hardens. “I know that name.”
“Salvatore ordered a hit,” I whisper, speaking slowly, ready to stop if he can't handle it. He seems to be holding up pretty well, so I add, “I'm sorry, Dad. It was supposed to be you, not Mom. It was a mix-up. Callum didn't know anything about it—remember, I didn't know Tatum then, and now, Costello is dead. I'm sorry, but there's no way to make it right. I wish I had better news.”
“And you believe this is all true?”
My eyes sting from the tears welling up in them. “I do, Dad. I know it's true.”
Please, don't press me for more. Please. You don't want to know how I know.
“So it was supposed to be me.” His face drops, his voice thick with emotion. “Well, I always knew that had to be a possibility.”
“I'm so sorry.”
“You know what's funny?” he asks with a bitter laugh. “I don't know what I expected. Finding out the truth doesn't change anything. She's still gone. I thought it would heal me somehow, but I don't think it will. I can stop blaming Callum,” he admits. “In the end, that's a good thing. But it doesn't change anything, does it? The damage was already done.”
“Maybe now you can move forward,” I suggest. “I know she would want you to, seeing that she loved you, just like I do.”
“Oh, honey.” He wraps his arms around me and sighs, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “I know I need to move on with life. I've been thinking about it a lot —mostly thanks to my unborn grandchild. It's the same as with drinking, I believe. I want them to have the sort of grandfather they can love and be proud of. I don't want to miss a minute with them. I have more to live for the now rather than let the past eat away at me further.”
I can't help it. The tears start to flow, soaking into his polo. And, for a minute, I cling to him like I'm a little girl again. Like, I think he's big enough and strong enough to take care of all the bad guys and make all the bad stuff disappear.
“Don't cry,” he whispers, stroking my hair. “I know I've been hard on you, and I'm so sorry. I wish I could go back and do everything over again. You didn't deserve half the shit I put you through.”
“It's okay.”
“No, it's not. I was paranoid and scared. I couldn't stand the thought of losing you. And there I was, setting it up so I would lose you by pushing you away. I'm surprised you want anything to do with me now.”
“Don't say that.” I lift my head to find him crying, too. “I know you did your best. There's no instruction manual for that kind of thing. All you can do is try.”
“I want you to know something.” He holds my head between his hands, smiling through his tears. “Regardless of everything, your mother would be so proud of you. You have become a wonderful woman, loving and kind, and generous. Exactly the way she always hoped you would be.”
“Really?” I manage to choke out.
“Really. I look at you, and I see so much of her—all of the good parts. And to think, I could have missed out on that, because I was too busy worrying about you and trying to control what you did and who you saw. I can't take it back, but I can tell you here and now that it's going to stop. It's all going to change. If you are happy, I'm happy. That's all that matters.”
