“About Tasha,” Mom started. “Would you like to talk about it?”
I shook my head.
“Be safe. No alcohol.”
“I won’t drink. Promise.” I felt like I’d been drunk on Tasha for months. I expected the hangover of a lifetime.
“I might be here in the morning,” my mom said.
“You will.” Dad’s hand closed over hers.
My heart buoyed. Or at least it would have if it wasn’t weighed down by acute loss. I loved my parents. I wanted them to be okay—to be together. I’d wanted it for a long while, though I’d been too frightened to hope for it until now.
“What I should have told you earlier,” my father said to me, “is that you’re the only one who knows your own heart. You were fighting for what you wanted earlier. I shouldn’t have argued with you about it.”
Except for where Tasha was concerned. I wanted her, but I didn’t fight for her. I fought with her.
“Everything will work out.” Mom held my father’s hand on the table. “You’ll see.”
I palmed my neck, my throat full. I was suddenly drained, recent events having taken their emotional toll. I didn’t want to think. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to forget about tonight entirely. I doubted I would be so lucky. “Second thought, I’m, uh, I’m going to bed. See you…both in the morning.”
“I’ll make pancakes,” Dad said. Just like the old days.
I pressed a kiss to Joyce’s forehead. “Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.” Tears shimmered in her eyes and I hightailed it out of there before I did something truly embarrassing and burst into tears with her.
Chapter Twenty
Tasha
“The reason I asked you to come by is so that I could explain something to you, Natasha. I’ve been under a lot of pressure at work,” my father said. We weren’t in his stodgy office for a change, but at the kitchen table. A glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice was in his hand, a steaming cup of coffee in mine. The plate of doughnuts he’d served sat untouched between us.
I’d almost turned down his invitation. I hadn’t seen or heard from Cade since he’d walked out of my bedroom a week ago. I was tender and hurting but managed to go to class and work. I wasn’t sure what Rena and Devlin knew, if anything, so I’d avoided my best friend this week too. Well, I’d texted her. We always texted. I’d kept it simple. Jokes about my stupid pathophysiology teacher, photos of my coffee, an excerpt from the paper I was writing.
Amazing what you can hide in text messages. On a screen, anyone would assume I was bubbly, chirpy Tasha. In real life, I was a black-and-white movie with smooth lines and muted shadows with no way to discern one color from another.
“I took out some of my anger on you and it was the wrong thing to do,” my dad continued. Did he really just say that? Color me shocked. Then he shocked me more by sliding the key to my Z4 across the table. “I never should have taken your car from you.”
I hadn’t told him about the breakup, either. Which was probably why the next thing he said was, “I have no right to choose who you date. You’re a grown woman. Cade seems…to like you quite a bit.”
That hurt. If he liked me so much, he wouldn’t have said half of what he said to me. Letting him into my heart had been a huge mistake.
My dad finished his juice and walked the glass to the sink. “The BMW was a gift without strings. I shouldn’t have shown off in front of Tony.”
“He cheated on me,” I blurted.
My father shut off the faucet and regarded me, eyebrows bent.
“With more than one of my friends.”
“Natasha.”
“That’s why we broke up.”
“You didn’t tell me.” He sounded wounded, and a little like he regretted taking Tony’s side. He should.
“I didn’t want to incur your wrath.” I picked up a doughnut and took a bite. It was sugary, sweet heaven. “You’re hard to please sometimes.”
He put his hands in his pockets and studied the floor. “That’s what your mom said. Without the ‘sometimes,’” he added, his smile sad.
I finished my doughnut, wiping my fingertips on a napkin. “I don’t want the car.”
He met my eyes. “It’s your car.”
“I’d rather you trust me. I’d rather have a relationship with you that didn’t involve you holding gifts and money over my head.”
“This is about Cade,” he guessed. He wasn’t wrong, but what Cade had said had nothing to do with this. Cade believing I was money-hungry was either delusional or his own hang-up. I thought it was probably both.
“You will finish school,” my father said.
“Of course. Even if I have to pay for it myself.”
“You will not pay for it.” He frowned. “I was stressed about money. It had nothing to do with you. We lost a lot last quarter and I…I’m not good at sharing my feelings.”
Him and every other man on the planet.
“I was terrified to lose this house,” he admitted.
“Why?” I shook my head, not understanding. The place was a veritable palace. Way too big for just him.
“Your mom designed this house.” He sat down again, looking less robotic and more human than ever. “She picked out every doorknob. Special ordered the baseboards. She picked each of the turquoise and pearl tiles in the shower in our room. My room,” he corrected. “And then she left.”
My heart in my throat, I felt his pain. I was the one to choose him, but she was the one who’d left. And if I were being honest, we hadn’t truly fixed what was lost. She could have tried harder to bridge the gap between us.
“And then you left.” He smiled sadly.
“I’m right here.”
He patted my hand, standing abruptly after a few meager pats. “Anyway. Enough of my moping. I won’t keep you from your plans today. I assume you want to see Caden.”
He sounded uncomfortable asking but I gave him points for trying.
“We, um. We are done working together.”
He frowned.
“It’s all good,” I lied.
“Then you need this.” He dangled the key between us. “You can’t take an Uber everywhere.”
My face contorted as a sob crawled up my throat. My father wrapped his arms around me, and I hugged him hard.
“H-he hates me,” I bawled.
“Impossible.” He rubbed circles on my back and stayed silent. When I pulled back to swipe my cheeks, he held me at arm’s length. “Tasha.”
I blinked at him. He never called me Tasha.
“I suppose it won’t help if I tell you you’re too good for him.”
I shook my head. “No. That’s what Cade thinks too. That I think I’m too good for him. He said I could never be with someone who made less than a billion dollars a year.” I sniffled. “Or something like that.”
“Ahh, deflection,” my father said, his tone almost amused. “Sounds like the problems Caden has are his own. You are the most caring, loving, beautiful girl in the whole wide world.”