Dr. Swanson grins. “Please, sit. I’d like to hear about your future ambitions.”
She looks at me, her blue eyes clear from the doubt she’d had earlier as she smiles. “Thank you,” she says. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Badass,” I whisper into her ear before kissing her cheek.
I head back down the aisle, smiling when someone waves at me before ducking into the room where my dad’s preparing to say ‘I do’ for the sixth time. He’s wearing the same suit as me, but his tie is a lighter shade of blue—chosen by Carol.
He clears his throat, tightening his tie.
“Looking for a getaway car?” I ask. “My truck’s valeted, but I’ve got the ticket.” I start to reach for his ticket, smiling as I do it.
He grins, reaching for a tumbler filled with amber liquid.
“I’m only kind of joking,” I tell him.
Dad straightens, swallowing the alcohol as he stares at me—possibly trying to find his words or trying to decipher if I’m joking. “I thought we discussed this.”
“Discussed what?”
“Her dad is in every newspaper in town because of the scandal.”
“A scandal she played no part in.”
“Do you think anyone cares if she played a part in it? It’s her dad. It’s going to reflect on her.”
I shake my head. “Well, that’s too bad for them because if someone wants to stir up shit, they’re going to be dealing with me.”
“Think about this, Lincoln. Think about your future. My associates aren’t going to want to see you dating a girl whose father had a public affair with a student.”
“And in a few months, the news of your sixth divorce will be plastered across the front pages.”
“Lincoln,” he quips, brows creasing with a frown that barely touches his lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’ve watched you date, marry, and divorce five women in ten years. Rather than marry her, maybe you want to stop and figure out what is going to actually make you happy because she’s not coming back.”
He takes another drink, draining half the glass. “This is my wedding,” he snaps, his jaw tensing. He doesn’t move toward me, his anger a completely different beat than Raegan’s father’s. Although he’s lacked at parenting in many regards, I don’t have a single doubt my dad loves me, and he’s a man of respect, and for him, that means you never strike another person—not with your fist at least.
“Why couldn’t you just try harder? Why’d you miss every dinner, every anniversary, every birthday?”
He slams the glass onto the table, the alcohol sloshing across the surface. “Dammit, Lincoln. What’s wrong with you? Why in the hell are you dragging this all up today—now?”
“Because we should have talked about this shit years ago. Because I’ve nearly walked away from the girl I know makes me a better person because I’m so fucking afraid I’m going to turn out like you.”
He pulls his head back, feeling my words and the anger and resentment filling them. “You should want to be like me. I was able to provide you with the best education money can buy. Tutors, coaches, trainers, vacations on private islands, every toy and game you could ever imagine—I gave it all to you.”
“I know, Dad. And I know you did it because you loved me, but what I needed was my parents, not to be shipped across country because you didn’t know what to do with me.”
“She’s who left,” he yells.
I nod. “But you let her. Every time you missed a weekend, a vacation, a dinner—you opened that door for her, she just decided to walk out.”
“What am I supposed to do? I can’t change what happened. I can’t go back in time. I did the best I could.”
I think of the stories Pax and his siblings have shared. The family history they share and the way it’s now shattered just like mine had all those years ago. “I know, but, Dad, Mom and I never cared about the gifts or the fancy vacations—we just needed you, your time.”
He runs a hand over his hair, his shoulders falling as my words seem to register to him a decade too late. “I always wanted to give you what I didn’t have.”
I nod. “I know. But you’ve missed so much, and it scares the hell out of me to be honest with you because you don’t hear what I tell you. She’s the only person who actually sees me for something more than a football player or a life of privilege. She sees me. She gets me.”
“I get you, son.”
“Then, you’d stop trying to force me into a future I don’t want.”
Dad pauses, releasing a long sigh. “I’ve built it for you.”
“Dad, I love football. I love history. If I can’t make it to the NFL, I want to do something that allows me to do something I’m passionate about—something I give a shit about. And I need something that allows me to spend as much time as I can with her rather than something that will always be pulling me away from her.”
“If you get drafted next year…”
I nod, both of us knowing what he’s saying. “I know. But that’s a couple of years, not a lifetime.”
“You can’t change your life for her. You have to both follow your passions or you’ll resent each other.”
“I’ve never wanted to be a lawyer, not even when I was a kid. And to be honest, the only thing I feel passionate about right now is her. She makes me feel alive. She makes me feel whole.”
His lips pull into a grim line, a silent threat of the pain he’s endured because he tried following his heart, and it led him to a life filled with empty relationships and promises. “She must be pretty special.”
I shake my head. “I love her.”
Dad pats my shoulder. “Maybe after everything settles down, we could discuss this some more.” He lifts both palms. “I’m not saying you have to, but we could even consider adding a new specialty at the firm, something with history.”
I lift my chin, ready to refuse even the idea, but he shakes his head.
“Let’s just talk,” he says. “Man-to-man. Maybe I can even give you a few tips on your game.”
I tap my fist against his bicep, making him chuckle. “Come on, your old man’s got some game.”
“Yeah. Luckily you write a really good prenup, too.”
“I like her.”
“I know. I’d feel better about this if you loved her.”
He swallows. “It’s hard to find someone who’s willing to love a broken man.”
I place my hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you just need to find the person who makes you feel less broken.”
“Maybe that will be wife seven?” He winks, and for a second, I consider going out and calling the wedding off on his behalf because he clearly needs some intervention. “She’s a good woman. I have a good feeling about this,” he says. “She learns about my job, takes an interest in what I do. I’ve even stopped working on Saturdays.”
I rotate my wrist, glancing at my watch. “Well, if you’re ready, this is your final chance. You can take my truck or give this a shot.”