The tears pooling in my eyes slip out with the next blink, falling across my face and landing like bombs against the desk.
“I am. I do love him. I guess that makes me bisexual, so there you go. I mean, I am. I’m bisexual. I don’t know why that was so hard to accept. But it’s out now.”
“Do you feel better?” he asks.
With the next exhale, my shoulders slide a little lower and the pain in my chest eases like I can breathe at last. “Yeah.”
He breathes too, and I finally get the nerve to look at him. There’s always an eerie feeling when I’m alone with my dad, like Preston—no, Preston’s death, is there with us, between us, filling every molecule of space in the room. We can hardly see past it, but right now, he’s looking at me, and it’s just us. Cleared space and room to breathe.
“Good,” he replies. “Are you going to call him?”
I laugh. “No. He’ll probably never talk to me again.”
“Worth a try. Have you tried groveling? It worked for me.”
With a subtle sad smile, I shake my head. “I don’t know if there’s a punishment on earth that would make up for how I treated him.”
He’s glaring down at me with his arms crossed. “And do I want to know how Hanna fits into this equation?”
With that, I laugh in earnest. I’m not even going to answer that question, not yet at least. He doesn’t push me more about it, but after a few minutes, I do finally shut the laptop and follow him out of the office toward the house.
As we step outside, he grabs my arm and pulls me toward him, wrapping his arms around me. I don’t remember the last time I hugged my dad, but I don’t fight as he squeezes hard. It makes me wonder why I couldn’t just tell him this sooner.
After a few minutes, he lets go and we walk together toward the patio where the girls are sitting. My eyes meet Hanna’s right away, and I think she knows.
A small smile lifts the corners of her lips, but I try not to let myself hope for much. She’s still leaving, and Ellis is already gone.
This little moment with my dad was great, but it was far too late for me this time.
Everything with my dad has left me feeling raw and exhausted, so after we finish lunch, I get up from the table and head inside. I just need a break from people and penetrating eyes for a moment. Standing in the kitchen, trying to decide if I need a drink with alcohol or caffeine, I hear a small cry coming from the living room, so I walk over to inspect. Harper is awake in her little car seat, clawing helplessly for a pacifier that fell out of her mouth. The buckles take me a moment to get undone, but once I do, I pull her gently out of the seat.
Her sweet blue eyes latch onto me immediately, staring up at me with her little mouth open.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say to her. “I’m not the cool, fun brother. I’m the mean one.”
A smile spreads across her face, putting deep dimples in her pudgy cheeks.
Jesus, she’s fucking cute.
She starts rooting around for something, so I put the pacifier in her mouth and carry her in one arm to the kitchen. “The question, little sister, is vodka or coffee? What do you think?”
She’s going to town on that pacifier, and I laugh. “Yeah, coffee.” It’s not easy, but I manage to get the machine loaded with one hand, and she hardly moves, watching every single thing I do like it’s the greatest thing she’s ever seen.
While I wait for the machine to brew, I look up and notice there are a pair of mismatched eyes gazing through the window, watching me. It makes my chest ache. I wish she’d stay, but I know I have no right to even ask her to. I said I was going to be better for her, and somehow, I ended up being worse.
“Harper, never believe a man when he says he’ll change.”
She coos against her pacifier, and when I look up again, Hanna is staring away from me, a contemplative look on her face. Then the patio door opens, and Zara walks in, looking at us with a tight smile.
“I’m fighting the urge to take a picture right now.”