Page 94 of Dessert Flirt Repeat
I’m caught off guard by his out-of-the-blue question. “She’s fine. Busy with work, but she just got back from a cruise with her cousins.”
“Alaskan cruise?”
“Yeah. How’d you know that?”
“She always asked me to take her on an Alaskan cruise, but I never did. Too busy with work.”
“Oh.”
“Did she have a good birthday?”
I’m sputtering. They’ve been divorced ever since I was ten. He still remembers her birthday?
“Uh, yeah. We threw a party at her house. All her family and friends came. She had a great time.”
A sad smile tugs at his mouth. He glances off to the side. I have no idea what prompted those questions about Mom.
I take a second to refocus on why I’m here. He turns back to me. I look him straight in the eye, my heart in my throat as I work up the nerve to say what I’m about to say.
“I owe you an apology.” The words tumble from my lips like rocks tumbling down a mountainside. Fast, abrupt, hurried.
His eyebrows jump to his hairline before he frowns and shakes his head. “No, wait. I’m the one who should be apologizing. For so many things.” He sighs. “Son, I need you to know how sorry I am for firing you, for saying those awful things to you about your social media account. I was wrong. So, so wrong.”
He presses his eyes shut and shakes his head, like he’s taking a second to collect himself. “I was a narrow-minded jerk. Ever since that day we fought, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things. I realize now that I’ve spent so much of my life focusing on the wrong things—on business and prestige and so much other stuff that doesn’t matter. I gave up the most precious time in my life—raising you and your siblings—for material crap.”
A hard swallow moves down his throat, and his eyes go misty. He blinks quickly. “I’ll regret that forever. Just like I regret losing contact with you this past year. But I’m the one to blame for all of it.”
For a moment I just look at him. As comforting as it is to hear him apologize and explain what he did wrong, I’m unnerved. I need a second to get used to seeing my unflappable, unfeeling dad like this: pained and regretful.
“I’m not used to hearing you like this,” I say. It’s probably the wrong thing to say in this moment when he’s being so vulnerable and open, but it’s the truth. And it’s the only thing I can think to say.
He surprises me by letting out a soft, sad laugh. “That’s understandable. I’ve made a living as a rigid, uptight perfectionist.”
“What made you change?”
“Losing you.” He says it without missing a beat while looking me straight in the eye. “You and your brother and sister are the only things that matter to me, Gage. If I don’t have you, I don’t have anything.” His voice starts to shake. “It’s sad that it took me so long, that it took me being cut off by my own son, to realize that.”
I’m speechless as I take in this moment with my dad. He’s not the unrelenting and unfeeling robot I remember. He’s human. He’s emotional. He’s imperfect. But I still love him. I always have. And I want him in my life again.
“I’m sorry too, Dad,” I say after a quiet moment. “For cutting you out. That wasn’t the right way to deal with things. I was just hurt by the things you said to me and how you fired me. And icing you out was the only way I could think to deal.”
“I understand why you did it.” He glances around his empty restaurant. “I’m sorry too for going up to Becca like that. That wasn’t the right way to reach out. I was just desperate to have you in my life again. But I know that’s not an excuse for the abrupt way I approached her.”
I shake my head. “Becca really felt for you. I wouldn’t be here sitting with you if it wasn’t for her.”
His eyes brighten. “She seems like a wonderful young woman.”
My throat squeezes. “She is. I think I, uh, messed it up though.”
His gaze on me turns concerned. “What happened?”
I pause for a second, letting the rawness of this moment wash over me. We’ve never had this sort of relationship before, where I’ve talked to him about personal things, like my relationships.
His expression turns sheepish as the silence stretches between us. “You don’t have to tell me. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I know we don’t normally talk about these sorts of things. But if you ever want to, I’m always here to listen.”
I pull my lips into my mouth and nod. This feels so weird, sitting across from my dad, opening myself up like this. But the longer I think about it, the more I realize that’s exactly what I want. I want to feel comfortable opening up to him. I want to feel comfortable talking to him about my life. And if that’s what I truly want, I need to start now.
So I tell him about how after I called him to tell him off, Becca and I argued.
