that bruise, but I can live with a live bit of pain from the straps pressing in. And the dress will keep the mark out of the pictures.
With one last look in the mirror, I suck in a breath.
I look good. But more than that, I feel good.
I’m going to meet my husband, whom I couldn’t love anymore.
There are things unsettled—like the Wicked deal and whatever’s between Rae and Harrison. Still, I can set those aside for the moment and focus on the beauty of this instant.
Except…
I frown, scanning the room as I press my hand to my chest above the dress.
“Looking for something?”
My dad’s voice has me looking toward the doorway. Relief floods me—both at his form and the chain he holds up.
I race to him. “My necklace!” The chain is new and the glass is repaired so cleanly it’s almost impossible to see where it was cracked.
“Tyler fixed it. Don’t ask me how.”
Dad’s gruff voice telling me the man I love saved the necklace he gave me the first summer we were together, back when everything was beautiful and angst-filled and chaotic, has my chest aching.
“Thanks.” I throw my arms around Dad’s neck. When I pull back, I realize he’s wearing a linen suit. “Wow. You look like you’re going to bet on a polo match or something.”
“Hell no. I’m not going anywhere. Not today. Not for all the money in the damn world.” His face goes slack, his eyes sad.
“What’s wrong?”
The biggest rock star of all of them shakes his head slowly, surveying me from my half-pinned hair to my wedge-clad toes under the dress. “Nothing.”
My stomach rises into my throat at the emotion in my dad’s voice. He’s quick to anger, quick to fight, quick to defend.
This version of him is new and disconcerting.
“All I wanted was for you to grow up better than I did. And I might’ve failed you in that.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t—”
He cuts me off. “I don’t know if I did or didn’t. But looking at you, seeing the woman you’ve become… I want to take credit for it, but I can’t. It’s all you. I couldn’t be prouder, and I have no damn right to take credit for you.”
My smile wavers as I touch his shoulders, peering up into his stunned face. “You should take some credit. I wanted you to be proud, always. And I knew you loved me. Even when things were hard between us, when I was angry with you or trying to ignore you or wishing you were different, I knew deep down that you did. That’s what made it harder.”
“I had a rough patch a few months ago after you and Tyler came for the holidays,” he admits.
“What? Why?” I reach for the necklace, and he holds it away, motioning at me to turn.
I do, reluctantly facing the mirror. He loops the necklace around my throat, carefully letting the ring and pendant settle against my chest.
“Because you didn’t need me anymore. You haven’t for a while. I think taking over Wicked was something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, but your independence made it more pressing. I want to be needed, but no one needs you forever. I’d never say it to anyone else, but I like being needed, kid.” With shaking hands, he fastens the clasp behind my neck and lifts my hair away.
Before he can step back, I grab his thick wrists. His surprised gaze finds mine in the mirror.
“Maybe I don’t need you to make sure I eat dinner, like Mason, or tie my shoes, like Sophie,” I tease. “Maybe I don’t even need your advice on how to play guitar or be a musician, like Tyler. But I need you in my life because you are an example of what is possible in this world. And I need that even in the moments I don’t ask for it. Especially when I don’t ask for it.”
His eyes, the same shade as mine, are glassy.
He wraps his arms around me, and I lean back against him. A sound from the door has us both looking up.
Beck grins. “Sorry to interrupt this beautiful moment, but if you’re late two days in a row, Mr. J”—he nods at my dad—“my sixth sense says Haley’s going to murder someone.”
“You’re not really psychic. You just play one on TV,” my dad gripes, but he steps back.
“You’d be surprised how much it rubs off,” Beck says, then cuts a look at me. He looks a