“I know, but Sam and I won’t be around after New Year’s, so this is the only time we have to talk to him together. And since there is no way in hell Gaston will be okay with you meeting up with Dad on your own, tomorrow is the only day we have.”
Crap, he’s right. Even though Gaston has urged me to talk to my dad, if I ever did meet up with him, Gaston would demand to be there with me.
“It will be okay,” Chris says, and I want to believe him, but I don’t. This last year has proven that the man who raised me, the man whom I called Dad, is no longer a man I know or a guy I like very much. My father was a man of integrity, a man of his word, and a man who loved his family and always put them first.
“You’re not doing this on your own, kid,” Sam says, coming over to the couch and resting his head over the top of my head. “Your brother, Gus, and I will be there, so even if it’s not okay, it will be okay. We’ll all make sure of that.”
I look up at him, and my mind starts to spin at the idea of him and Gus coming with Chris and me to talk with our dad and all the things that could happen. “I don’t think you or Gus should be there,” I say, then quickly add, “I mean, I think it would be better if it were just Chris and me, at least at first. Maybe you guys can come in after we’ve had a chance to talk.”
“Are you worried about me or Gus going apeshit?” Sam asks with a smile.
Having known Sam for years, I know that unlike my brother, he is always pretty even tempered. Even in stressful situations, he’s never flown off the handle or lashed out in anger. I cannot say the same about Gaston. Even if I’ve never seen him angry, I know he’s protective, and I have no doubt he’d lose his mind if my dad said something he didn’t like.
“Gus,” I confess, and he doesn’t look offended. If anything, he looks pleased with my response.
I feel my brother take hold of my hand, and my eyes go to him. “I think what Sam means is we will all be here after everything is said and done.” His fingers squeeze mine. “You’re not going through this alone, sis.”
At his statement, tears begin to sting the backs of my eyes, and I try to fight them off but know I fail when I feel wetness track down my cheek. Until Gaston came into my life, I didn’t think about anything but work. I’ve spent the last year focused on my shop, so I haven’t had to deal with how alone and abandoned I’ve felt since our father walked out of our lives. Something that was easy to do with Chris living so far away and our mom checking out until recently.
“Please make her stop crying,” Sam begs, and I choke on a laughter-filled sob as my brother pulls me into his arms and pats my back, I’m sure glaring at his husband-to-be.
Not wanting either of them to be upset that I’m crying, I quickly pull myself together, then lean back to smile at Sam while wiping my face. “You do know babies cry all the time, right?”
“Yeah. And I’ve come to terms with our kid being a hellion who’s used to always getting their way,” he says with a straight face, and I giggle.
“And you’re going along with this plan?” I ask Chris.
“We obviously have a difference of opinion,” he says, giving me a squeeze before he gets up off the couch and holds out his hand. “All right, show me around this place.”
With a deep breath, I let him pull me up; then I show him and Sam around Gaston’s condo. My brother agrees halfway through the tour that the place is beautiful, but like Sam said, it needs more color, an observation that makes me smile and feel anxious excitement. Not long after I’m done showing them around, Chris and Sam share a look that I ignore, because gross.
I walk them to the door, give them both hugs good night, and tell them I will see them in the morning for breakfast with Gaston. When they leave, I let LeFou outside on the balcony to potty one last time. I lock up after I let him back in, then go to the bedroom, change into my nightgown, and take off my makeup. I crawl into bed and call Gaston so I can tell him about my impending meeting with my dad, and not surprisingly, he tells me he’s going with me, even if he’ll just be sitting outside the restaurant with Sam.
By the time I hang up with him, I’m feeling a little less anxious about tomorrow, and I’m so tired I don’t have a chance to be scared. I fall asleep as soon as I get off the phone, and when I wake up again, Gaston is pulling me against his warm body. I absently feel him kiss my forehead, and then I fall back asleep, feeling nothing but contentment in his arms.
“Me and Sam will be here when you two come out,” Gus tells me before capturing me behind my neck with his hand and pulling me forward against his warm, strong body. My arms automatically circle his waist, and I settle against him, wishing he were coming into the restaurant with me. “If anything is said that you don’t like, or if you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, get up and walk out,” he says quietly, and I rest my forehead against his chest, feeling his lips rest heavy against my hair. I take a few deep breaths, summoning the courage I need, and then pull my forehead away from where it’s resting and tip my head back toward him, accepting a soft kiss. “Don’t forget what I said.”
“I won’t,” I whisper as I feel a hand touch my lower back. I turn to look at my brother, who seems way more prepared for this than I am.
“Ready?” Chris asks.
“Yeah.” I give him a jerky nod, and Gus lets me go so I can take Chris’s hand when he reaches it out toward me.
With my knees feeling weak, I walk hand in hand with my brother into the diner where we’re meeting our dad, and as soon as we walk through the door, I spot him. He looks different from the last time, older even, sitting alone in a booth with his head bent over his hands, which are curled around a cup of coffee in front of him.
I absently hear Chris tell a waitress that we’re meeting someone but won’t be staying long as my dad lifts his head, and my stomach rolls when I catch a glimpse of pain shoot through his features. “Come on,” Chris says, and before I can prepare, he gives my hand, still held firmly in his, a tug, then proceeds to pull me with him across the restaurant to the booth our father is seated at.
Dad gets up to stand at the side of the table as we walk toward him, and I fight against the urge to either run and greet him like I always did when I was younger, or run away, back to the safety of Gaston outside.
“Dad,” Chris says, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze before letting me go to slide into the booth.
I hesitate, wringing my hands together, not sure I’m ready to do this. Actually, I’m sure I’m not. I feel eyes on me, and I glance at my brother, who’s studying our father, and then my eyes move automatically to him.
“Please sit, honey,” my dad pleads, looking worried as he takes a seat.
With my stomach turning, I slide across the red pleather seat, getting as close to my brother as I possibly can, and Chris lifts his arm, then wraps it around my shoulders. I lean into him as an uncomfortable silence settles over the table, and I hold my breath, waiting for someone to speak, knowing it’s not going to be me who breaks the silence.
“You both look well,” Dad finally says, and I feel Chris shift as the muscles in his waist and arm tighten. “How have you two been?”