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“I started going to Raul for help in replenishing the shop about six months after she passed.” I cautiously step beside him. “It’s not okay that I lied or that I went behind your back, but I was scared that if I told you I’d killed this place, you’d hate me.”
The pain tugging the angles of his face guts me, and I almost fall to my knees, prepared to beg him to forgive me.
“How can you say that?” Dad shakes his head, and the six feet between us feels like six miles. “I could never hate you, Molly. And yeah, this is unexpected, but I’m not exactly surprised, either.”
My brows pinch in a frown, and he chuckles, smooth and airy. “Sweetheart, you really think I don’t know that you’ve never taken to gardening? Hell, you spent every spare minute with me in the shop and goin’ on jobs when you were a little girl.”
It’s true. I’ve yearned for even a fraction of the love and passion that my mother held for nurturing plants, but always lacked her patience.
“Your mom and I used to joke about what a tomboy you were.” His eyes glisten when he swallows. “Why do you think I was so adamant that you sell the shop? I knew it wasn’t bringing you any joy.”
“I thought it was because of, you know… the debt thing,” I say awkwardly. “And I realize selling is likely the best option, but it’s not as easy for me to part with what little we have left of her.”
“It’s not easy for me, either. Why do you think I haven’t been back out here? It was too painful.” He crosses to clamp a hand on my shoulder and then gives my sternum a light tap. “But you know as well as I do that these material things are nothing more than reminders of your mother. They aren’t what ties her to us.”
My heart aches for us both. It’s been a week since I left the manor, and I’ve been hiding out at Piper’s, terrified to confront him with this. But now I wonder how I could have ever thought he would disown me for this.
“You’ll never know how sorry I am for letting it get this way, Dad. I tried to keep it up, but no matter what I did, everything kept getting sick or dying.” I sniffle. “I let my pride get in the way of asking someone for help, and by the time I was ready to, it was too late.”
He yanks me in for a hug, one that has both of us crying in silence, and I breathe him in, feeling like a young girl who needs nothing and no one in this moment but her father.
“I don’t want to keep any more secrets from you,” I whisper. “I didn’t bring you here to only show you this.”
More confessions pour out of me in the safety of his embrace as I tell him everything. That I’ve been keeping a secret studio at Record Revival, where I regularly play the piano, that Rowan and I are calling off the wedding, and that the whole thing was a ploy to help each other get something we wanted.
“That day I found the foreclosure notice, I knew I had to do something, and Rowan had the means to help us. He was supposed to give me the other half of the money once we were married, not that I would hold him to fulfilling that bargain now…”
“That sneaky shit.” Dad pulls back, his brows scrunched in thought. “He called yesterday to let me know he’d wired an advance for the rest of the contract work to my account. It’s more than enough for any of the jobs we’d discussed.”
“What?” I drop my arms in shock. “Why would he do that?”
I haven’t seen or heard from Rowan since I left. I assumed he’d be canceling plans and heading back to Seattle at some point to reunite with his brothers.
I rub the ache blooming in the center of my chest.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Dad muses. “He’s not ready to let you go, sweetheart.”
“That can’t be,” I say, turning for the opposite window.
Bracing my hands on the withered counter, I hang my head and tell him the rest, including our encounter with Sam and everything that’s at stake.
“Never did like them fancy types,” Dad tsks about Sam’s involvement.
“Rowan is one of the fancy types, you know,” I half-tease.
“No,” he says when I meet his unfaltering stare. “Rowan’s nothing like them, and you know that.”
I exhale long and hard, trying to keep from feeding that flickering flame of hope that Rowan’s not done fighting. That maybe he’s found a solution. “Of course I do, but it doesn’t change anything.”
He’s quiet for a beat, and knowing Dan Hart, he’s spinning his wheels, piecing things together. “What does he think about your love for the piano?”
I know what he’s angling at, and that cheeky look only proves it. “Dad, stop. It doesn’t matter what he thinks.”
“Oh, but it does. Just like you finally leaving that junk off your birthmark.” He jabs my arm with the tip of his finger. “He supports you, I support you, and now you have no reason to hide.”
“Well, you’re right about one thing.” Not wanting to talk about Rowan any longer, I push off the counter. “I don’t want to hide my passion for playing anymore.”
He tips his head, patiently waiting for the rest, but I hesitate while staring at my reflection in the glass, proud when I don’t wince at the woman staring back at me.
