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Ethan shakes Dad’s hand, introducing himself in person and then smiling as my dad thanks him repeatedly for reaching out.
“I’ve been waiting for so long,” Dad rasps, his glimmering eyes drinking me in. “Hoping. Wishing. Praying for that moment when you’d finally forgive me and track me down.”
I frown, slapping my menu onto the table and making the cutlery rattle. “What do you mean?”
He goes still, blinks at me like he doesn’t understand my anger.
“Why shouldIbe trackingyoudown? You’re my father. Shouldn’t you have been trying to find me? Make sure I was okay? Keep in touch!”
“I…” He blinks at me again. “Mikayla, I… I did.”
Yeah, right? Does he honestly believe that bullshit?
I glare at him, ready to unleash a little hell—list out every time he let me down—until I realize that he’s not lying. His face is so sincere, his eyes filled with sad bewilderment.
Holy shit.
But that can’t be right.
I never heard from him. Not once.
Air whooshes out of me—a husky gasp that’s more of a shudder. “When? When did you call me?”
His face bunches with confusion, and there he goes again, straightening his already straight cutlery and realigning his already aligned wineglass. “I… When your mother first kicked me out, I tried to keep in touch. I called you and Megan every day. But you didn’t want to talk to me. I sent gifts for birthdays and Christmas, but they were sent right back because you didn’t even want to open them.”
“That’s bullshit,” I snap. “I cried myself to sleep for months. Of course I wanted to talk to you. I was desperate to know you still loved me. And there were zero gifts, by the way, so stop talking out your ass!”
Ethan’s hand rests on my leg beneath the table. His gentle squeeze alerts me to the fact that I’m drawing every eye in the room. I clamp my lips together and look down at the menu. The words blur into black, unreadable blobs.
“Mikayla.” Dad’s voice breaks over my name. He clears his throat, but his voice remains gravelly. “Your mother told me you didn’t want to see me. She told me you hated me and that I needed to give you space.”
“That’s a lie.” Now my voice is breaking. “I never said that to her.”
His blue eyes, so similar to mine, darken with realization while I wrestle with the same reality. I’m pretty sure someone’s just punched me in the chest. I struggle for air while my dad clenches his jaw and shakes his head, looking sick.
I know how he feels. That… that bitch!
“How could you believe her so easily?” My voice quakes as I struggle with a fresh wave of rage at my mother. But the anger comes spitting out at my dad, because…” Why didn’t you fight for custody or something? How could you just walk away?”
“Because, I…” He sighs, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “When my parents split up, I hated the fact that I had to go see my dad every other weekend. The guy was an asshole, and I didn’t want to be near him. Those weekends sucked. I felt helpless. No matter how hard I begged, Mom would always make me go because the court said she had to send me.” His face crumples with a look of pure agony. “I didn’t want to put you through that.”
“But you weren’t an asshole,” I rasp.
“Sweetie.” He tips his head, his expression filled with remorse. “I cheated on your mother. She had every right to kick me out.”
I sniff and look away from him, pinching my lips against the sob brewing in my stomach. I won’t cry in this place. I won’t lose it in this fancy restaurant. The black rage against my lying mother builds like an inferno, rising up my chest until I want to scream.
But Ethan’s rubbing my leg, his soft touch keeping me grounded.
“Mick, I am so sorry.” Dad’s voice hitches. “I let you down. I thought you hated me for cheating, for being kicked out. I thought you never wanted to see me again. It broke my heart to give up physical custody, but I didn’t want to cause you any more pain. I was trying to do the right thing.”
“And Melanie was trying to punish you.” Ethan finally speaks. There’s a hard edge to his voice. “She hated you for hurting her, so she took away the one thing that meant the most to you. Your daughters.”
I glance at him, then dart my eyes to Dad, who’s nodding and looking ready to smash his fist through something. Our gazes meet across the table and his anger disintegrates, his eyes flooding with pain. “I should have fought harder for you, baby girl. I’m so sorry.”
Tears burn my eyes, and it’s impossible to fight them. I dip my head as the first few fall, quietly whimpering into my hand. Ethan’s fingers graze my shoulders, then come to rest on the back of my neck. He gives it a light squeeze, kissing the side of my head and murmuring in my ear, “It’s okay. We can leave if you need to.”
“No,” I manage, shaking my head and wiping the tears off my cheeks. “I can do this.”
