“I missed you. I’m tired of missing you.”
“Me too,” I breathed.
He pulled back and met my eyes. “So, I decided something.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“I don’t want to miss you anymore, not without being able to envision our future, see our plans on the horizon.”
My eyes went wide, and I patted his cheek. “Smaller words, hockey boy,” I whispered against his mouth. “Old-school apple martinis, remember?”
He chuckled under my lips and started a slow kiss just long enough to get my attention.
“J?” He kissed me again.
“Mmmhmm.”
“Marry me.”
His hand was on mine, wriggling the cool of a ring around a certain finger. I pulled it up to my face and stared at it in a shocked awe. My head bobbed back and forth between the ring and his face until he started laughing at my mute response.
“Please tell me you’ll remember this in the morning.”
My eyes filled as I planted little kisses all across his face. “I’ll . . . never . . . forget.”
He grabbed my cheeks and held me still, settling his eyes on mine. “And your answer?”
“Yes. Of course, yes.” I laughed.
He exhaled and pulled me in close, holding me as if our forever had finally started.
And it had. And maybe it hadn’t.
Because maybe it had started almost a decade before.
We stared up at the tree, my hand often floating above so I could see the ring in its place, begin to accept the beauty of its welcome permanence.
“Jill?”
“Yes?”
“There’s one thing I need to know before we do this.”
I held my breath, my mind racing, thoughts tumbling. “How we’re going to pull off a years-long engagement, hours away?”
“Nah.” He traced my cheek. “We’ll figure that out.”
“You’re right.” I exhaled. It sounded crazy, but if anyone could do it, we could. There wasn’t distance enough that could drive a wedge between us. “What then?”
He held my face again, searching. “What’s the deal with . . . the apples?”
I exploded into giggles, and he listened close as I told him the story of how I’d finally fallen for my apple-crunching friend, or finally realized I’d fallen . . . years before, over honey pancakes on a tear-filled paper route break, somewhere in the light and shadowed places, somewhere between the two heart-felt spaces of us.
Chapter 6
Two Years Later
It would be fine. It was the most beautiful day of my life. It didn’t matter if my dad showed up. Or didn’t.
I wished I knew which I wanted.
He certainly wasn’t giving me away. He hadn’t earned the right. My mom had.
My head spun as I paced a new trail into the old worn one on the floor of my room, the white train of my dress perfectly draped across my outstretched arm. It was supposed to be a simple backyard wedding. That was the plan. Small. Private.
Why had I invited him? Why?
Because that’s what people did. They invited their fathers to their weddings.
Except we weren’t “people.” We were some jacked-up hybrid of normal and barely functioning.
And I was over it.
I jetted to the door. I needed Marc. He was the only one who’d be able to calm me down. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t supposed to see me in my dress. I didn’t care anymore about the stupid rules.
My hand went to the knob just as it turned under my hand. “Jill?”
Marc. I smiled. Instantly my breath slowed, my mind calmed.
“Hey kid, it’s the big day, huh?” My fleeting peace was flipped on end at the sound of my dad’s voice. He was here too.
He’d come. He’d actually shown up.
Why now? Why this time?
The doorknob clicked back into place. I pictured Marc turning toward him, jaw pulsing with disdain, hands forced into calm by his sides. “Afternoon, sir.”
“So formal, son.” My dad’s laughter boomed. “Isn’t that usually Jillie’s department?”
My stomach churned. Like he would know.
Marc’s voice was tight. “Why did you come?”
I pressed my ear against the door, the cool surface soothing the flush of my skin. Leave it to Marc to ask the one question I’d wanted answered.
“It’s my daughter’s wedding. She invited me. Of course I’d come.”
It was Marc’s turn to laugh. “See, that’s where I disagree.”
“Excuse me?”
“She’s invited you to everything. Each birthday, graduation, play, a million choir events. And it falls on deaf ears. Well, at least absent ones.” A sarcastic exhale escaped. “See, the thing is, the thing that really ticks me off, is that I think you know you can’t be a father half-way. It’s why you left, isn’t it? But every time you forget and come meandering back, only to leave again, you crush her.”
“I don’t—”
“And I won’t let you crush her anymore.”
My heart pounded as I hugged the door.
My dad’s voice broke. “Are you telling me you won’t let me see my own daughter?”
“I’m telling you.” He took a breath. “If you walk through this door, if you get to have the moment before I do of seeing how breathtaking she looks, of how hopeful she feels, and you turn it into a bitter memory of you leaving again, you won’t be welcomed back. Ever.”
It was quiet for a minute before a guttural sound erupted, clawing at me from the hall.
Was that my dad? Crying?
Marc’s footsteps and their shadow left their post by the door. “It’s all or nothing, man. I’m committing to her today.” I pictured him laying a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you think you should too?”
Marc’s footsteps carried on down the hall and, eventually, my dad quieted. The thought never crossed my mind that Marc would actually stop him from seeing me, but what he’d said? It was what I’d always wanted. The yo-yo of my daughter’s heart to finally stop its draining pull. We’d talked about it a million times.
Leave it to my Marc to have the guts to actually say it.
I waited, the sound of my dad’s breathing the only indication he was still present.
For now.
He approached the door. I stared at the handle, but it didn’t turn. “Jillian?”
I tried to swallow back the lump in my throat. “I’m here, Dad.” Please don’t leave.
“I, uh, I bet you look beautiful.”
Okay.
He let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to disturb you.”
So, he wasn’t coming in. My chest fell, part disappointment, part relief.
His hand slid down the door, his palm sending its brushing drag through to my soul. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
He took a few steps back.
I waited. Was that it? Was he about to leave? Forever?
I reached for the doorknob but stopped myself. Someone had to end the cycle.
He cleared his throat. “And Jillie?”
My heart pulsed. “Yes?”