Page 70 of Just Forever

“You’re in Buffalo on Friday,” I mutter. The sulky tone is unfair. It’s his job. It involves a fuckton of travel. I know it, and there’s no use in being a dickhead about it all of a sudden. I put on a smile and force some conviction into my tone.

“It’s fine. It’s something I need to take care of on my own.”

He looks like he’s going to argue for a moment, but then he just nods because what the fuck else is he supposed to do? Tell his coach ‘Hey, can I skip tomorrow’s game? My secret husband is having a temper tantrum.’

He eyes me for a long moment. “It’s okay to hope for a good outcome. You know that, right?”

“I’ll be fine.”

I pickeda random coffee shop instead of one of the expensive restaurants Scott chose the last time we were supposed to meet. I don’t like playing games, but fuck that for now. We’ll do it on my territory, or we won’t do it at all.

I arrive early for no reason at all and almost immediately regret that decision because now I have nothing to do other than nurse a cup of coffee and stare at walls covered in framed movie posters from the sixties and an assortment of signs that are supposed to be funny but really aren’t.

The slow sips of coffee I take taste bitter enough to make my face contort into a grimace, but it’s not like I have anything better to do while I wait. The sandwich I ordered with the coffee is so dry that I abandon it after the first bite.

The beginning of this meeting is super promising so far.

My phone chimes, and I pick it up.

Ryk: I love you. I’ll be back later tonight.

I smile despite myself and feel slightly less tense.

I glance out the window. Still no Scott. I’m not sure whether I’m rooting for him to show up or stand me up. Both of those options have their own appeal.

Even so, my chest is hollow with nerves. It’s not great. I’d like it if the nerves weren’t there. Nerves imply that I care.

Fuck, I wish I didn’t care.

But I do.

There’s a tiny seed of hope inside me, and it’s been there ever since Scott called.

Maybe hope isn’t the right word. It’s not that I think we’re ever going to be a family. I don’t expect him to become my father and erase all the years of disinterest. It’s so goddamn stupid, but I guess I just want to feel wanted by at least one person who’s related to me by blood. I’m embarrassed to even think that. Honestly, it’s goddamn fucking pathetic, and I fully realize that.

I still want it.

Some form of the unconditional parental acceptance I used to have once upon a time.

Some kind of link to a family member.

I want to feel that I’m wanted.

Christ. How pathetic is this? Here I am. Waiting for a man who, by all accounts, never wanted me. A man who hasn’t shown any interest in me in twenty-three years.

But somewhere deep inside me, I have this hope that maybe he’s changed his mind.

God. Damn. Pathetic.

Scott arrives two minutes early. He throws the door open and marches inside like he owns the place, so not much has changed there. He looks a bit older than the man I remember from mychildhood, but it’s not a stark difference. He’s approaching fifty, but he could easily pass for forty.

He looks a lot like John. Probably a lot like me, too. Or I look a lot like him, if you want to get technical about it. Same dark brown hair. Same light blue eyes. Same narrow face. Same sharp cheekbones.

The only stark difference from the Scott I used to know as a child is the way he dresses. He’s gone from frat bro to aspiring politician with his sleek black suit and slicked-back hair.

He holds out his arms as he approaches me.

It’s one of those moments when time seems to move in slow motion. Even Scott’s voice, once he opens his mouth, is sluggish and slow.

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