Page 133 of Impossible Love

Staring at those photos afterward, I wished I could freeze this moment in time. Jasmine is growing up. She no longer wears her princess dresses on a daily basis. She chose to go shopping with Victoria instead of catching frogs down at the river with me.

She’s beginning to need what I can’t give her.

I’ve been father and mother to her since the moment she drew her first breath. That was the best day and the worst day of my life, all rolled into one. It was the day I said goodbye to my wife and met my child.

Eight years later, I worry I’m failing them both.

Jasmine grabs my hand and squeezes it tight. “I love weddings,” she says to me. “I love my shiny shoes, and the gift bag Victoria gave me with lip gloss, a hair scrunchie, and ten Reese’s peanut butter cups.”

I smile down at her. “And don’t forget that you get to dance with your dad later.”

She shrugs. “Summer says that if anyone tries to dance with her at the party she’ll kick them in the ’nads, but when I asked her what ’nads are, she told me to ask you.”

My eyeballs bug out. I’m going to throttle that girl. “I’m duly warned,” I say, raising my hands in surrender. “No dancing with Summer.”

“She’s wearing a dress, though,” Jasmine whispers. “But she said no way to high heels. Auntie Phyllis had to fight her to put on a bra.”

“This is too much information for me.”

“Oh, Dad,” Jasmine says, chiding me. “You’re such a guy.”

Jasmine used to call me Daddy. Recently, she’s started making the switch to Dad. I think I’m being demoted.

“What do you mean I’m ‘such a guy?’” I find that she’s turned away from me, facing the house. She doesn’t want to miss it when Victoria and Summer make their appearance.

Cal comes walking down the lane. He spots me and makes a beeline in my direction. He’s suited up. A barber arrived this morning to give all the MacLaine men shaves and haircuts. Cal doesn’t have a hair out of place, and I wonder if he’s got gel in it because it’s not moving in the breeze.

When he reaches me, he grabs my lapels and pulls me toward him. “Don’t tell a soul what I’m about to tell you. Got it?”

“Uh, sure?” I try to remove his hands from my suit, but it’s no use. He’s clamped on tight.

“’Cause if you tell another living soul, I’ll bludgeon your kneecaps.”

“That’s pretty specific. And Medieval.”

“I’m going to throw up, Finn.”

“Don’t do it on my suit. So what did you want to tell me?”

He gives me a hard shake. “That’s it. I’m telling you that I’m going to throw up. Do not share that with another soul.”

“Take a deep breath, SEAL. Pull yourself together.” I finally manage to remove his hands from my lapel. “But if you’re going to blow chunks, do it right now, over the side of the dock and into the water. And do it downwind, because I happen to look really great in this suit.”

Cal bites his lip. “I just want it to be perfect, man. I want it perfect for her.”

“It already is.”

From the back deck, a string quartet begins to play Bach. I see Jasmine joining Summer. “All right. That’s our cue. We gotta stroll down this pier so you can get married.”

He manages to take that walk with me. I turn to see my daughter in her official duties, the light playing in her hair as she distributes rose petals on the pier. Summer is behind her, in a dress. Behind them is a dazzling Victoria, as beautiful as a painting. The man walking her down the aisle is our dad, Jamie MacLaine. He looks incredibly proud.

Cal’s face lights up at the sight of his bride. The nerves are instantly gone. He’s not green around his gills. Instead, his eyes fill with wonder. I’m looking at a dude who’s astonished that he got this lucky.

I know that look. I had it once.

The ceremony is moving and sweet, and two hours later, we’re finishing up the formal sit-down dinner that cost Cal the price of a house in the South of France. The meal is served in an outdoor ballroom tent that costs Cal more than a Cadillac Escalade. That’s followed by a wedding cake that probably set him back…I have no idea how much it cost. Whatever he paid, it was worth it, because that is the most bomb-ass delicious cake I’ve ever bitten into.

The string quartet packs it in for the night and the disc jockey takes center stage. Almost immediately, the guests are burning up the dance floor and the DJ is getting slammed with requests.

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