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I say yes to that too.
A little later, Finn gets under the covers with me. Falling asleep with him feels peaceful. Waking up feels right.
We leave for breakfast, holding hands. When we hit the streets of Chelsea, all those happy, buzzy feelings vanish at the sight of my father walking toward us.
35
GOODBYE AND ALWAYS
Finn
I don’t drop her hand. I hold it tighter, giving her a subtle squeeze for strength, in case she needs it. No matter how tough Jules is becoming, it’s not easy facing someone you love when that person is staring at you like you no longer make sense.
Tate slows his pace as he comes closer. His normal, confident stride turns to slow-mo as he shifts his gaze from her to me, then back again. Math problems flash in his eyes, but without a solution.
“You’ve got this, Jules.We’vegot this,” I say in a whisper.
She gives a small nod, then when we’re a few feet from Tate, we stop. He stops.
I’m not sure why he’s here now. But thewhyhardly matters. He is and we need to deal with it.
The three of us stand in front of a brick apartment building in Chelsea on a Saturday morning, as weekenders hit the sidewalk, pushing strollers, rushing to cafés, heading to the gym. Heat rises from the concrete as summer bears down on the city.
“Hi, Dad,” Jules says. Her voice wavers, but she lifts her chin like a warrior.
“Tate,” I say. It’s crisp, firm.
He squints. “What’s going on?”
Said not as a friend, not as a father, but as counsel in the courtroom hit with a surprise witness.
“Dad, I’m seeing Finn. I’m in love with Finn. We’re together,” Jules says, the witness on the stand taking the oath and sticking to the truth.
“Yes, we are. I love your daughter very much,” I say, meeting his gaze.
But when he meets mine it’s with a sneer, then a dismissive glare. He turns back to Jules. “W-when? How?”
Tate is no longer in a courtroom. He’s the father, shocked by his daughter’s choices.
I don’t say a word. She doesn’t either. He won’t be privy to how we met after dark.
“That…dinner?” Tate asks, like he’s cycling back in time to the night I met his daughter when I was with Marilyn still. But he blinks that away. “Oh. Paris?”
Sure. That’s close enough. “Yes,” I say, since Jules doesn’t need to lie to him.
I can take that one on.
Tate huffs out a breath. “When I said I hoped you’d learn from Finn that wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind,” he says to her dryly.
She doesn’t take his sarcastic bait, even though I suspect it’s coming from his own shock.
“I’m happy,” she says, standing her ground. “You don’t have to be happy for me, but I was going to tell you today. And this is what I want. Finn is who I want.”
With a curl in his lips that I swear he tries to erase, he jerks his gaze away, drags a hand down his face, then turns back to us. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he says tightly.
It’s my turn to step in now. I squeeze her hand tighter. “I love Jules, and I’ll take care of her. I’ll look out for her. I’ll be there for her.”
His eyes are bullets. “We won’t be running together anymore.”
