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“Excuse me for just a minute,” I said, holding up one finger before I dashed away to the ladies’.
In the stall, I closed the door and let my tears come, very carefully, with a piece of toilet tissue wrapped around a finger under my lower lashes to prevent eyeliner run-off. Joey fucking Tangen. That man had ruined my childhood and my self-esteem. He wasn’t going to ruin my makeup. The only thing he had ever done right by me was passing along this fabulous hair color.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Neil was waiting for me, sans wedding personnel. “All right, now?” he asked, giving my upper arm a squeeze.
“Yeah. It just caught me by surprise.” That was the worst part. After twenty-six years, I should have been able to let my guard down.
“You know, we could always walk down the aisle together,” he suggested helpfully. “I’ve been to Catholic weddings where that was done.”
“Nah. I want to stun you at the altar when you see me in my fabulous dress. Stop trying to get an early look.” I sniffed away the last bit of my sadness. “Even if my dad were in my life, I wouldn’t have had him walk me down the aisle, anyway. I meant it when I said it’s like giving away property.”
“Sophie…” Neil began, and when he trailed off, I knew whatever he was going to say was something he’d been debating telling me for a while. “We could find your father. It isn’t as though we don’t have the resources to pay for a private investigator—”
“And what?” I asked, holding up my hands at my side. “What happens when we find him? I invite him to the wedding? We build the father-daughter relationship he never wanted with me in the first place?”
“I wasn’t suggesting something so unrealistic, no,” he replied mildly. “I thought you might want some closure, is all.”
“And, what if we find him, and he wants to be a part of my life?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “‘Oh, the kid I spawned and left is marrying a billionaire. Better get in on that.’ No, thank you.”
Neil nodded in understanding. “I just wanted to give you the option. And perhaps give myself the option of punching him in the face.”
I laughed. “Baby, I’m sorry, but even the way you say ‘punching him in the face’ sounds too posh. Have you ever punched anybody?”
“I’m sure I have. I can’t remember doing it, but I must have, at some point. I’m quite manly and tough,” he assured me.
“Oh, well, in that case. It’s sweet that you want to punch my father.” I paused. “I’m not sure those words often work in that order.”
“I could buy his company and fire him, if that interests you,” he joked. “Assuming, of course, that he’s employed by a small enough company. If he works for Disney or McDonald’s, then I can’t help you.”
Neil put his arm around me, and I gave him a gentle, admonishing push as we walked back to the Terrace room.
“So, string quartet?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “When were you going to tell me about that?”
“I told you,” Neil insisted, and as we bickered about who told what when and to whom, I began to feel a bit better. It sucked that my father had deserted me. It suc
ked that he haunted every major event in my life. But in the end, I didn’t need another parent. I was done with that part of my life. And, if I needed a man to love me, I’d already won the lottery in that department.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When our house phone rang at three-thirty in the morning, I figured Holli had taken mushrooms again and wanted to warn me about spider tornados, like the last time.
Neil answered, uttering a groggy, “Hello?”
He sounded so polite for someone who’d been woken in the middle of the night. My smile wasn’t a conscious effort, but a reflex triggered by my delight at his utter stereotypical Englishman-ness.
“Darling?” Neil gently shook me. “It’s your mother.”
I shot straight up. My mom? Why was she calling? It had to be bad.
“It’s not Grandma, is it?” I gasped into the handset.
Neil turned on the light and reached for his glasses.
“No, honey, Grandma is fine.” Mom sounded tired and…weirdly chipper.
“What’s going on?” I lowered my voice, though Neil would hear me, anyway. “Are you drunk?”
“No! I just…” She sighed heavily. “We had a little bit of a fire.”
