Page 89 of Own the Eights Gets Married
He blinked back tears. “This separation is killing me. I want to be with Georgie. I want to be the man for her.”
“You are, son,” his father answered.
“How do you know that, Dad?”
And there it was. The question that had him up wrestling with his demons until the early morning hours. Even if she’d take him back, how would he know that he could be the man Georgie deserved?
His big, burly father gave him a teary grin. “I know because you helped me become a better man. You showed me I wasn’t honoring your mother’s memory by wallowing in the past. For years, I hated myself for not dealing with her death better and for not being the dad you needed. But when I stopped hiding behind the mask of anger and disappointment, I was able to see there was a way forward. A way to look into my heart and know I could choose to do better. You changed your life, son. You grew strong in body and mind. Thanks to your example, I learned I was the one who had to choose to be better each day.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “You’re not going to hurt Georgie. You might not always agree, but, at the end of the day, you’ll always put her first. It’s who you are. You love with your whole heart, Jordan. I’m the same way. We Marks’ men sometimes get so caught up in our head, we lose sight of what our heart knows is true.”
Jordan gazed between his father and Maureen. How he wanted to believe them. How he wanted to know for certain he could be the man these two people—who were so important to him—thought he could be.
“Let Georgie know how you feel. You’re the man for her, son. All you have to do is believe that with your whole heart and lay off on stealing her dryer lint. It’s damn creepy,” his father added.
Jordan shook his head, grateful for the humor, but froze when his cell phone, still resting on the table, began to vibrate.
“Is it Georgie?” his father asked.
Jordan picked up the phone, then cleared the emotion from his throat.
“No, it’s from Simon Bacon’s grandmother, Esther. She’s in the hospital and asked that I come there immediately.”
Maureen pressed her hand to her heart. “Oh no! Did she say anything else?”
He hammered out a quick response, then pocketed the phone and the dryer lint—creepy or not, he wasn’t about to part with it yet.
“No, but I told her I was on my way. I can visit her before I have to get to the Shakespeare Shuffle for the competition. I’m guessing Simon is with her.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” Maureen offered.
“I will,” he said and headed for the door.
“And the wedding?” his father asked.
Jordan stared at the doorknob and released a tight breath. “I don’t know, Dad. I need to make sure Simon and Esther are all right first, and then…”
Then, it was time to face the music. Time to confront his fears. Time to make his case to the woman he loved.
He glanced at his watch, knowing one thing for certain.
Time was running out.
