The Bromance Book Club - Lyssa Kay Adams Page 0,98
and swore out loud. “Urchin-snouted codpiece!”
Rubbing his head, he ducked out of his row. A flight attendant told him he needed to take his seat because the outer door was about to close.
Del leaned over. “Dude, what are you doing?”
“I have to get off the plane.” He opened the bin and grabbed his shit.
The flight attendant approached, hands raised. “Sir, I really need you to sit.”
“I can’t. You have to let me off. I have to . . . I have an emergency.”
“I have to get off too.” Del suddenly stood.
Followed by Yan. “Yo también.”
“Gentleman, please—”
“Listen, we have an emergency here,” Del barked.
“Is someone ill?”
People were staring now. Another flight attendant was making her way up the aisle.
Del grabbed Gavin’s arm and grinned. “Grand gesture time?”
“Oh, yeah.” Gavin turned back to the flight attendant and conjured his sternest game face. “Let me off this plane. I have to go marry my wife.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
A line of vintage Rolls-Royces parked in front of the soaring stone cathedral was the best indication that Thea was in the right place. Her father never did anything halfway. Well, except marriage. Her father had been half-assing marriage forever. But the weddings? He spared no expense for those.
Thea had driven the entire four hours to Atlanta this morning. She started and stopped to call Gavin no less than a dozen times on the way. She didn’t even know if he would answer, and even if he did, she wasn’t actually ready to talk to him.
By some miracle, she arrived early enough that she landed a prime parking spot on the opposite side of the church that would let her flee in a hurry, if necessary. The bad news was, now she had to sit there with just her thoughts for way too long.
Thea closed her eyes and leaned her head against the seat. God, what was she doing there? Of all the stupid, impulsive things to do. What was this going to accomplish? It wasn’t fair to confront her father on his wedding day, and she had no desire to ruin his fiancée’s big day. Poor woman had enough hurt coming her way eventually, anyway.
But she’d come all this way, and she needed to get through this. Because Gavin was right. She’d been running and hiding from her own backstory for too long, and her father played a starring role in it.
Thea jumped at the sound of a knock on her window. Her eyes flew open to find—oh, crap. Her father peered in at her. In his charcoal gray tuxedo and with his salt-and-pepper hair, he looked more like the father of the bride than the groom.
Thea lowered the window, which seemed to amuse him. “You ever going to come in, or are you going to watch the whole wedding from out here?”
“How’d you know I was here?”
He pointed to an upper level of the church. “Window.”
“You recognized me from all the way over there?”
“I recognize my daughter, yes.”
The word daughter stung like a sharp needle. She knew this man so little that even calling him Dad made her squirm. But he could just blurt out “my daughter”?
“I didn’t think you were coming,” he said.
“Don’t worry, I won’t eat anything.”
“Don’t be mulish, Thea. The wedding planner is already working to seat you with Jessica’s parents.”
“With her parents?” Thea reared back. “Oh, no. That’s not, please don’t. That’s like, way too up front.”
Her father straightened and tipped his chin toward the passenger seat. “Can I get in?”
“Don’t you have groom things to do?”
“I’ve done this a few times. I know what my job is.”
“That probably sounds funny to you, but it’s actually pretty gross.”
He gestured to the seat again. “May I?”
Thea hit the unlock button and watched him walk around the front of her car. Someone must have called his name, because he lifted his hand in greeting before continuing to the passenger door.
Silence screamed as he slid in. Sitting in a car with someone was one of those everyday acts of familiarity that could either be unremarkably mundane or incredibly awkward. This was awkward. The comfort that most people felt around their dads didn’t exist for Thea. The man next to her had never tucked her in at night, never kissed scrapes and boo-boos, had never lifted her high into bed and snuggled her while she slept. She’d never crawled into his lap for comfort, never made pancakes with him. He was a stranger. Like a distant uncle who you saw every five years at family reunions