Page 63 of Love Rewritten

Our whole group turns toward him. Rose’s eyes widen, and she lets go of Meredith’s hand. Meredith looks confused. Logan looks annoyed. Abby clings to my hand softly even though my grip on hers is tight.

I clench my jaw shut to keep from saying something I’ll regret, more for Rose’s sake than our dad's. When I turn around, he’s standing behind me a few steps, one hand stuffed in the pocket of his slacks, the other holding the hand of the strawberry blonde behind him. She’s almost as tall as him in her black stilettos. He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.

“Not here,” I snap. I lean into Abby’s ear and whisper in the calmest tone I can manage, “Please, stay here. I’m going to talk to him outside.”

Her brows twist. “It’s pouring.”

“Just … please stay here.” I squeeze her hand before standing and heading for the door, shoving past the over-full bar. I don’t know what kind of discussion or fight this will turn into, and I don’t want her to see me angry if I can avoid it.

I don’t turn around to see if he’s following. Thankfully, there’s an overhang above the entrance of the bank next door, shielding me from most of the rain that’s now coming down in sheets. The wind has picked up, making it impossible to hide from all of it. My shoes are just going to get wet. It doesn’t take long for him to peek his head out the front door of the bar. He scans the empty sidewalk to see where I went. When he spots me, leaning against the white-painted brick, he jogs to join me under the awning that looks like it might give out in this wind.

Thank God he's alone. I don’t know what I would have done if he had brought her out here, too. I wait for him to speak. He leans back against the brick on the other side of the entrance, zipping up his coat the rest of the way. He seems to take a long moment to consider his words carefully.

“I’m … I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” he finally says.

All I can do is snort.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up. And I never see you anymore.”

My brows instantly shoot up. “And that’s my fault?”

“Relationships are a two-way street, Dal.”

I snort again. “Not this one.”

He pushes off the wall. “Yes, this one. You’re still my son.”

I shake my head as the anger snaps into place, and I can’t hold back the floodgate of words anymore. “That’s just it. I’myourson.You’rethe parent. It’s not my job to be the one who reaches out all the time, especially after what you’ve done. You’re the one at fault here. Not Mom, not Rose, not me. You. And did you really expect me to reach out after finding out you cheated? I couldn’t care less if ‘it just happened’ and you ‘couldn’t control it’ because that’s bullshit. You knew exactly what was happening. You had every chance to stop it, every chance to change your mind, every chance to turn around and return to your family. Remember us?” I beat my fist against my chest. “Wewere your family.”

He’s taken a step back, hands stuffed in his pockets. He opens his mouth to say something, but I hold a hand up.

“I’m not done.”

He snaps his mouth shut and nods, letting me continue.

“And now, you expect me to just be okay with it? And Rose? Are you fucking kidding me? We were already falling apart after Cole died. And you tore this family to shreds, Dad. Utter pieces. And then what did you do? Nothing. Not a damn thing. You went on your merry way, literally fucking your way through, while the rest of us got left behind.”

“Don’t youdarespeak to me like that,” he hisses, taking a large step forward and pointing a finger at me.

“Or what? Can’t get much worse.” I can’t help the small smirk that rises to my lips when he lowers his hand. He doesn’t say another word, doesn’t have anything to add, to come back with. Winning wasn’t my intention here. I just wanted him to finally hear me, to understand where I’m coming from, to understand what his actions have led to and felt like.

I don’t know how long Rose has been standing at the entrance of the bar, peeking her head around to listen, but I can see the tears in her eyes. I don’t know if she wants to come over here or if she’d rather he not know she’s there, so I take a deep breath and hang my head.

“This was never my intention,” he says after a moment of rainy silence.

Large drops pound on the awning, threatening to break through. The streets light up with a bright flash of lightning. A crack of thunder shakes the earth.

“You keep saying that. That it was all an accident. That you didn’t mean for any of it to happen. You know what you could have done? Stopped it. You know what you haven’t done? Taken full responsibility for it,” I say matter-of-factly. I cross my arms, leaning back against the brick again. I don’t feel like I’ve won anything. There’s no winning any of this.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is so low I almost miss it.

“It’s a little late for that. You realize you’re still fucking married right? Or have you already forgotten that part of your life?”

He looks up with pain in his eyes. Just as he’s about to say something, the woman he’s with tonight strolls out from the bar and cautiously approaches us, shielding her face from the rain with a hand.

I can’t hide the eye roll, the clenched jaw, the tight fists, any of it. It’s turning into an automatic reaction to him at this point.

She wraps her hand around his elbow and places the other on his forearm. Then she smiles like she didn’t just walk past his daughter and interrupt our conversation. Or rather our fight to be exact. Surely, she knows about us, right?

---