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“Because, Colleen,” he said irritably, not looking at her, “I’m trying to be a better father.”
“How nice. I accept expensive gifts. Cars, for example. Islands.”
“Can you be serious?” He sighed and ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Look. I thought I was a pretty good father, up until the divorce.”
“Up until the cheating, you mean.”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
“You ever hear that expression? The best thing a man can do for his children is love their mother?”
“No. But let me finish, okay?” He fixed her with a look. “I was always very proud of you and Connor. You were good kids. Smart and funny. I guess I didn’t show that enough.”
“True.”
“It was hard to know how to deal with you after the divorce. I was afraid you’d cut me out of your life completely, so I tried to get ready for that. Connor did it right away, and I was steeling myself for losing you.”
Much to Colleen’s shock, her father’s voice broke.
“I know I disappointed you, Collie. I didn’t know how to deal with it. Gail was pregnant, and I had to focus on that.” He bowed his head. “I was always grateful that you took to Savannah. Babysat her and all that. I got to see you that way.”
“Dad...” She cleared her throat. “You can see me other ways, too. We can have lunch and go for a run and that kind of thing.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Connor...he still can’t tolerate me.” Her father’s eyes filled with tears.
Colleen reached out for her father’s hand. “Keep trying,” she said.
“I’m very proud of you two. I really am.”
“Thank you.”
Her poor father. Yep. Poor Dad. Emotionally strangled by testosterone and trying to be fabulous.
Nice that he’d been force-fed a dose of humility, and by Mom of all people.
“Want some ice cream?” she asked. “You can stay for the movie, too.”
He gave her a grateful look. “Don’t mind if I do.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THREEWEEKSBACKin Chicago, and Lucas was still edgy and irritable. Sitting at his computer in the apartment he’d lived in since the divorce wasn’t as rewarding as he’d imagined it would be. His desk was impressive, his Mac expensive, his chair comfortable. The apartment was immaculate, thanks to the cleaning lady who came in once a week.
But aside from the photos of his nieces and a few of their drawings on the fridge, the place was...soulless, and Lucas wondered how he’d missed that. The furniture was fine, the walls were off-white, the kitchen counters were granite. Everything was new and still rather shiny.
Not like the opera house apartment, with its hundred-year-old floors and the smell of bread from Lorelei’s Sunrise Bakery. And not like Colleen’s old Victorian with the tall, narrow windows and crotch-sniffing dog. And red couch. And soft bed.
Yeah. No. Best not to think those thoughts.
He’d left Forbes Properties for good; the only thing left was the building dedication, and who really cared about that stuff? Lucas was proud of the building and how smoothly it had gone up, but he wasn’t the architect, and he wasn’t the owner. He’d always love the Forbes family; he’d always stay in touch, but his time was over.
Steph would be working for his new company, which would finally get his full attention now. He’d already been approached about general contracting a senior housing development and a corporate headquarters on the outskirts of town.
But it wasn’t what he really wanted to do. He wanted, simply, to build houses for regular people. Steph rolled her eyes at this because of course the big money was in bigger properties—strip malls and shopping centers. But strip malls wouldn’t be the kind of thing he would proudly point out to a future son or daughter and say, “See that Dunkin’ Donuts and the Supercuts? Daddy built that.”
