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I inhale deeply and let my eyes fall closed as my head falls back on the massage chair. Emilia, living in my house? My heart beats just a little faster at the thought of it. It’s been eight years since I last saw her. I have no idea how she feels about me and my family, but I doubt there’s even one remotely positive feeling left. Not after everything we put her through. Not after everything my mother and sister have said to her. They broke her spirit right before my eyes, and I stood by and watched it happen.
“I’m not sure she’d be willing to, John,” I tell him honestly. “But if that’s what you want, then yes, of course Emilia is welcome here.”
He smiles at me gratefully and I try my best to smile back, but I can’t manage it. I’ve been surviving on the memories I have of Emilia, and I wonder what it’ll be like to see her again. Does she still think of me the way I think of her? Does she ever wonder what our life together might have been like? Does she ever miss me? I’ve always hoped that she does, and that I still own part of her heart the way she owns part of mine. I wonder if she’ll shatter all of my illusions.
Having Emilia around, having her in my house… I have no idea what that might be like. Am I ready to see her again? For as long as I can remember, she’s been my person. Now all I am to her is someone she used to know.
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. I’ve waited years to see her again, but now that it’s finally happening, I don’t know how to feel. So many times I’ve booked a ticket to London, only to cancel it at the last minute. She asked for a clean break, and after everything my family and I put her through, that’s the very least I owed her. Yet I selfishly wished to chase after her. Sometimes I still do.
“You okay, son?”
I blink and glance at John. “Yes, of course,” I murmur, forcing a smile onto my face. John looks at me, and something about the look in his eyes makes me wonder if he orchestrated this. I’ve been asking him to move in with me for months, and he finally agrees shortly before telling me Emilia is returning? What is he thinking?
“It’ll be good for her to be here,” he tells me, and something about his tone puts me on edge. “It’s time for her to come home.”
He says it with such decisiveness that I can’t help but frown. I’d like to think he just wants her back here because he’s sick and he misses her, but I know him better than that. No, he’s got something up his sleeve, and I have a feeling it involves both Emilia and me.
Chapter 5
Emilia
I’m a wreck as I disembark the plane. Multiple times I end up apologizing because I find myself standing still when I’m willing myself to walk. I don’t think I’ve even slept in two days.
All I’ve been able to think about is Dad, and everything he’s been through by himself. I can’t believe I wasn’t there when he received his diagnosis. I can’t believe I haven’t been there for his first dialysis appointments. Sam walked me through everything Dad must have been through, and everything that’s yet to come. No one should ever have to go through something like this by themselves. I’m Dad’s only family, and I wasn’t there.
Bitterness courses through me at the thought of Dad suffering by himself. I should never have stayed away for as long as I did. I never should’ve even left. Kate didn’t deserve it. I shouldn’t have been the one to sacrifice my family to save hers. If I could go back in time, I’d undo that choice.
I bite down on my lip and shake my head. What’s done is done. All I can do now is be there for Dad going forward. I can’t make up for lost time, no matter how much I might wish to.
I inhale deeply as I walk out with my luggage, my heart racing. I look around me, feeling nostalgic. The airport has changed so much, yet simply standing here after so many years still feels like coming home.
“Emilia!”
I turn around, surprised, my eyes finding Dad.
“Princess,” he says, opening his arms wide. I drop my bags, my eyes filling with tears instantly. I walk into his arms and hold him tightly, a sob tearing through my throat.
“Daddy,” I murmur, choking on my sobs. He looks so thin and frail. When did this happen? How could I not have noticed? What kind of daughter am I?
Dad chuckles and tightens his grip on me. “God, Emilia. I’m not dead yet, you know?” he says, and I cry even harder. Dad pulls away and holds me by my shoulders, a pained smile on his face. “You’re still an ugly crier, huh? I missed your ugly little face.”
I pout and try my best to stop crying, but my attempts to rein in my tears only make him laugh. “It’s not funny. None of this is funny,” I tell him.
Dad nods and hugs me tightly. “I know, honey. But like I said, I’m not dead yet, okay? None of this crying nonsense, all right?”
I nod, trying my best to get a handle on my emotions, and Dad wipes my tears away carefully.
“What are you doing here, Dad? I thought we agreed I’d rent a car and drive down?”
Dad smiles and brushes my hair behind my ear. “Couldn’t wait to see my little girl again.”
My heart warms and fresh tears runs down my cheeks. I inhale deeply and sniff. “Dad, are you even supposed to be driving?” I ask, my voice wobbly.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m mostly fine, sweetheart. So long as I don’t miss my dialysis appointments I’m fine. Don’t you worry.”
Sam did say that most people can go on to live for years so long as they receive regular dialysis, but Dad doesn’t look fine. He looks sick and frail.
Dad grabs my hand and pulls me towards his car. I frown and glance at him. “New car?” I ask, taking in the Range Rover. It’s stunning, and it’s not something Dad would usually drive.
