“Vanessa and Lenny would love to include you in the ceremony.”
“Well, I’ll be there.” General Fitzpatrick spoke to Liv. “Just like I said I’d show up here.”
Liv looked at Vanessa.
Vanessa nodded. Sweat beaded her upper lip. “Dad.”
He tipped his head, indicating he was listening, without actually meeting her gaze.
“Dad, I know you’ve already expressed you don’t want to do the father-daughter dance with me—”
“No one wants to see me dance,” the general said to Liv. “A brick wall has more rhythm.”
“I know, Dad, and I told you that’s okay,” Vanessa said in a way that indicated it really was not. “But it would mean a lot to me, and to Lenny, if you at least walked me down the aisle.”
The general rubbed the space between his eyebrows. “I don’t think you want an ugly old badger like me up there.”
“Actually, I do,” Vanessa said.
He let out a tense breath. “My knee’s been playing up.”
“It’s twenty feet!”
The general snapped, “Look, I’m not going along with this dog and pony show, okay?”
Vanessa froze.
Lenny swore under his breath.
Savannah couldn’t stop herself gasping. She hadn’t imagined he’d actually say no. It was Vanessa’s wedding day. That happens once.
Liv took a deep breath and calmly dove in. “Well, let’s think this through. It is, of course, tradition for the father of the bride to walk his daughter down the aisle. And the terrific thing about traditions is they’re human, like us. They change as we change.”
The man’s face remained eerily unmoved.
“General Fitzpatrick.” Savannah took the reins. “It really is such an honor to be able to give your daughter away. Especially to a wonderful groom like Lenny. And as father of the bride, you—”
The general interrupted. “Can we all stop saying that?”
“Saying what?” asked Savannah. From the corner of her eye, she saw Liv flinch.
“Father of the bride. I’m sorry, but whatever it is you’ve become, Adam: it’s not a bride.”
It landed like a bomb. Hard heat shot into Savannah’s body, rippling every muscle.
In a low voice, Vanessa said, “Please do not use that name, Dad.”
“It’s your name. The name I gave you. The name I gave my son.” The general’s voice was close to breaking. “First I lose your mother. Then you go and do… this.”
Lenny raked both hands hard through his hair. “I’m so sick of this.”
Liv raised a hand. “Lenny, let’s try and stay—”
“Do you realize how strong this woman is? How much she’s been through?” Lenny was on his feet. “And now all she wants is for you to walk her down the aisle. One day. One goddamn day.”
The general’s face was blotchy with anger. He rose from the pale pink sofa and moved toward the door. “I’m not listening to this crap.”
“Dad, please.” Vanessa got to her feet. “I’m only doing this once. I never ask you for anything. I know things between us are tough, but weddings bring people together. I think we’ll both regret it if you’re not an important part of my day.”
“I don’t know who you are anymore.” The general met Vanessa’s eyes for the first time. “I don’t know what any of this is. How can I walk someone I don’t even know down the aisle?” He pressed one shaking hand to his face. For a moment, it seemed he might cry. Then the general drew in a thick breath and squared his shoulders. “I am sorry, Adam. But I just can’t.” He nodded curtly at Liv and left the room.
“I’m sorry.” Lenny was red-faced and wiping his eyes. “Babe, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Vanessa whispered.
But Savannah didn’t think it was.
After the couple left, Liv leaned back in her chair, gulping some coffee. “I try to keep an open mind about everyone, but wow—he’s going to make it hard. Oh, well: if Vanessa wants him to walk her down the aisle, that’s what we want.”
Savannah nodded. She felt the same way. Her instinct had been to hug Vanessa tearfully and promise they would absolutely have her father walking her down the aisle. But she was glad she hadn’t: she couldn’t guarantee that. Maybe Liv was rubbing off on her.
Liv handed Savannah the mess of sticky notes she’d been scribbling on in the meeting.
Savannah accepted them gingerly. “What should I do with these?”
Liv flapped a hand about, reddening. “Put them all into that CMS plug-in thing you’ve been yammering on about. And then, I don’t know, show me how to use it.”
A huge swell of warmth made Savannah smile. She’d always respected Liv. But now, she was actually starting to like her.
“Good coffee,” Liv added, turning back to her computer. “Why don’t you make another pot?”
30
The sun rose blood-orange over the beautiful, smoggy sprawl of Tokyo. Clay slipped on his leather jacket and checked the time on the clock next to the hotel bed. “I should be back by seven. There’s a gym downstairs. And the concierge can probably recommend somewhere to get lunch.”
Zia finished lacing up her boots. “I’m going to get the train to Shibuya, find somewhere for a traditional breakfast, and explore for a few hours. Then I’ll head to Harajuku for lunch—gyozas, definitely. Do the Meiji Shrine, walk along Omotesando Avenue, people-watch for a bit, then end up on the observation deck of the Mori Tower for sunset and a sake. But I’d love to meet you for dinner.”
Clay looked, frankly, amazed.
Tokyo exceeded Zia’s expectations. The person she became when far from home was her template for living: open and good-humored, confident and curious. She loved who she was when the only agenda was learning, experiencing, and stepping outside the day-to-day. Her senses felt sharper, treated to the smell of salty miso, the taste of chewy ramen, the sight of so much color and life.
Spending time with Clay was effortless, a new language she somehow spoke fluidly. When he slipped his fingers into hers as they explored the crowded Shinjuku Chuo Park market, browsing vintage kimonos and 1950s toys, it didn’t even register it was the first time they were holding hands. It just felt normal. She loved watching him interact with the locals, gracious and genuinely interested. Over late-night dinners in quiet, elegant restaurants, she grilled him on Radical Water, the clean-water initiative he’d started. He was so engaged and enthusiastic about the cause: how far Ugandan girls and women walked to get water that just made them sick, how much of a difference one well could make to an entire village. How clean water was linked to climate change. Being a performer had become a means to an end for Clay. “I don’t want to belong to a world where someone like me gets all this privilege with no obligation to the millions of people who live on less than two dollars a day.”
Polite servers whisked their empty plates away. Clay wasn’t famous tonight. He was just an American, on a date with a woman he couldn’t take his eyes off. Under the table, she rubbed his calf with her foot. “I love how passionate you are. You really care about people.”