Page 102 of Eleanor & Grey

“Do what?”

“Feel sorry for me. I know it comes easy for you to feel sorry for me, but I’m not the hero of this story. I’m the villain.”

He bit his bottom lip and wouldn’t look my way.

“You’re not a villain, Greyson.”

“Tell that to the girl who isn’t celebrating her birthday with her father—you know, the one who has more conversations with a ghost than with me, or the one whose body is battered and scarred because of my actions.”

I frowned, because I saw his struggle, but I also knew it from the other side. I was both of his girls. I was Lorelai, the girl wanting nothing more than her father’s attention and I was Karla—the girl who acted out just so he’d notice.

The only difference was that I’d never seen the guilt from my father that Greyson was displaying. I never saw the quiet moments where the truths of my father were revealed.

“Sorry,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Again…I’m drunk,” he told me once more.

“That’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t know how to get it back,” he said, throwing me a curveball.

“Get what back?”

“My family.”

“Do you miss your girls?”

“Every day.”

“And you want to be in their lives?”

He sighed and his nose wrinkled up as he placed his glass down then put his hands on the back of his neck. “When I look at them, I don’t only see their mother. I see what I took away from them. I took away the glue of this family, and I don’t know how to get it back. So much time has passed now that I don’t even know if I’m allowed to have them back.”

“Yes, you are.”

“You saying it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true.”

“No, you’re right, but it is true. They’ll take you back—without question, without hesitation.” I tilted my head. “Well, Karla might have a little hesitation, but that’s just because she’s Karla, and I think she’s stubborn.”

“I don’t know where she gets that.”

I smirked and rolled my eyes. “Yeah, no clue whatsoever.”

“I don’t even know where to start, really, how to even approach bringing myself back into their lives.”

“First you, then them. You need to help yourself first, Greyson. You have to get your mind right before you can be what your daughters need you to be. Plus, I can be your wingwoman.”

“My wingwoman?”

“Yeah, I’ll come up with excuses and events that we can all attend together. We’ll do an activity once a week. Then it will give you a chance to really connect with the girls.”

“You’d do that for me?” he asked, seemingly shocked by my offer.

“Greyson…you went out of your way to sit with me once every week when my mom was sick. You helped me breathe. It’s only right that I return the favor. So, what do you say? Will you let me be your wingwoman?”

He kind of smirked, and I kind of loved it.

Whatever.

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