A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis - Robyn Peterman Page 0,73

sounds, partner.”

“Me too,” I said, getting low and crawling in. “Me too.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“You’re sure?” my father demanded in a voice so full of pain, I had to look away.

“I’m sure,” I replied. “Clarissa doesn’t have my mother’s soul. She’s looking for it and thought I had it.”

Rage and confusion contorted his face. “If she doesn’t have Alana’s soul, where the hell is it?”

I said nothing. I didn’t have the answer.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said tersely then walked out the front door of my house and slammed it behind him.

I looked over at the others in confusion.

“Did he just leave?”

“Hell no,” Candy said, moving quickly to the window. “He just needs to let off a little steam. That was some big fucking news.”

“Understatement,” Tim said.

Charlie, Heather, Tim, and Gideon joined Candy at the bay window.

Luckily, Steve and Gram were keeping the ghosts entertained upstairs in my bedroom. They were all restless and upset since Clarissa’s terrorizing visit, with the exception of Birdie, who was in seriously bad shape and resting on my newly restored couch thanks to a little magic from Candy. I could see through most of my dead buddy now and she was unable to fly. She’d weighed practically nothing in my arms when I’d carried her out of the crawlspace and back into the house. And I almost cried with joy when she’d called me a hooker and weakly flipped me off.

I put an afghan over her before I joined the others at the window.

“Everyone be ready to duck,” Gideon warned.

“Are you serious?” I asked, peering out at the pissed-off Archangel in my yard.

“Very,” Gideon said.

Michael glowed such a brilliant gold, it was hard to look directly at him. He lit up the yard like a blazing sun in the middle of the night. Raising his hands in the air then jerking them down violently, he created an explosion that caused the house to shudder on its foundation. His roar of agony and fury would live in my mind forever.

My instinct was to go to him, but the rules for my father and myself had not been decided. Would I even be welcome? The thought broke a piece of my heart.

“Follow your instincts, Daisy,” Gideon whispered in my ear.

I glanced up at him.

“You’re thinking very loudly,” he said, giving me a gentle push.

“I’m going to have to figure out how to stop doing that,” I muttered as I opened the front door and looked out at the father who’d loved my mother with his entire being.

Michael turned as if he felt my eyes on him and stared right back. His body still glowed but it wasn’t as blinding, or maybe I was getting used to it. I had no idea what to say. Words seemed insufficient. I decided against them.

Walking down the front porch steps, I approached him. My father looked at me, his expression questioning. Keeping my gaze pinned to his, I slowly extended my hand. His beautiful eyes widened and he glanced down at my hand. I simply nodded and kept it extended.

He approached me warily, as if I would yank my hand back as he came closer. I had no intention of doing that. My gesture was from my heart. It was real and it felt right.

He took my hand. The feeling of his hand in mine was one I’d longed for my whole life. It had taken forty years to get here and a tremendous amount of shitty stuff to happen, but we’d arrived. Hopefully.

“I destroyed your yard,” my father finally said, still staring at our joined hands. “Sorry about that.”

I laughed. His statement was unexpected, but somehow perfect. “No biggie, I knocked down a huge tree not too long ago with my fist,” I told him.

His smile lit his face and my breath caught in my throat. “Like father, like daughter,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry, Daisy.”

I wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for the yard or for being absent my life. My guess was both.

“I’m sorry too,” I said. “Come back inside.”

“As you wish,” he said, squeezing my hand.

The emotions rioting through me were thrilling and freeing. It filled me with something I’d been missing—something that had been stolen from me.

And it gave me yet another reason to hate Clarissa.

As we reentered the house, everything inside me felt new and shiny. However, I wasn’t ready to scream with joy and call John Travolta dad. We had a long road ahead. And while I would no longer think of him