Page 50 of Wrapped Up In You
“I’m going to head out front and find a spot. You’re going to be amazing.” I kissed him deeply, then grabbed my bourbon and turned to make my way out to the front of the house.
“Wait.” I turned, eyebrows raised in question. He stepped forward so we were just a few inches apart. “I just wanted to say thank you. For believing in me, pushing me, and supporting me. I never would have taken this gig if it weren’t for you.”
“Ah, Hay. That’s sweet. But if not this gig, there would have been another one. I think you were always meant to do this.”
“Maybe. But I still appreciate the nudge.”
“Anytime, baby. You got this!”
* * *
My boyfriend was killing it on stage, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a total turn-on watching him do his thing. Despite the nerves I’d seen him exhibit backstage, he’d performed his first set with complete confidence, as if he’d been doing this for years. When he’d taken a quick break between sets, it had taken all my self-control not to haul him into the back and bend him over the couch I’d seen earlier in the green room.
He was midway through his second set when I spotted Suzanne and my father making their way through the crowd to the standing cocktail table I’d snagged in the back near the bar. My father made a beeline for the bar while Suzanne came over and greeted me warmly with a hug. There wasn’t an opportunity for conversation, as we were engrossed in watching Hayden perform, so we stood side by side, swaying to the music. My father approached with a cocktail for Suzanne and what I assumed was a bourbon for himself, taking up position on Suzanne’s other side.
My blood hummed with anxiety, replaying the words we’d thrown at each other last night and wondering what we might say to each other now. Whatever might be said, I didn’t want to ruin Hayden’s big night. I silently vowed to keep it civil for his sake.
Shortly after the arrival of Suzanne and my father, Hayden’s dad, Mark, and stepmother, Jessica, arrived, crowding in at our tiny table. From what I understood, the divorce between Hayden’s parents had been mostly amicable, and I was glad, for his sake, that all parties seemed to get along.
We all watched, beaming, as Hayden sang, strumming the guitar with precision as he belted out a cover of a Dave Matthews Band song. The crowd was pressed up to the stage, hands waving in the air, as they sang about playing under the table and dreaming. I stood in awe at the magnificence of him, eyes closed, singing an iconic song like a boss. Like this was what he’d been made to do. I couldn’t have been prouder.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned, surprised to find myself looking into the eyes of my father. He nodded toward the hallway leading to the restrooms, but I shook my head. This was Hayden’s night, not the time for this conversation.
He pressed his face next to mine, speaking into my ear. “Just hear me out.” I started to shake my head, but he cut me off, surprising me with, “Please.”
I huffed but jerked a nod and made to follow him, hoping Hayden wouldn’t notice my absence. I wanted him focused on his performance, not distracted with worry over my father and me.
We found our way into the hallway leading to the restrooms and leaned against the wall, facing each other. The music was muted back here, no longer drowning out the hammering of my own pulse.
“Suzanne wanted me to talk to you—”
“Oh,Suzannedid, huh?”
“She thought I should apologize for the way I spoke to you last night.”
“Oh, she did, did she?” I knew I was being a bit petulant as I crossed my arms, but I wasn’t willing to let him off the hook. If he was going to apologize to me, he needed to own it.
He sighed, then crossed his arms, mirroring my stance. “Have you made your point?”
“You tell me. If we’re only having this conversation so you can get back in Suzanne’s good graces, then we might as well go back out there now. This is Hayden’s night.”
His face flushed, but when he didn’t say anything further, I turned to walk away. His hand on my arm stopped me.
“I’m sorry.” I turned, nodding at him to continue. “I’ve never been good at expressing myself emotionally.”
I snorted. That was a massive understatement.
He glared at me but continued, “When your mom passed, I was lost. She was the only one who could get me to say the things I’d never said to anyone else. And the pain of losing her…it was unbearable.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and my anger began to dissipate, sympathy taking its place. “Like I said, I was never good at the emotional stuff, but after your mom…I just sort of locked it down. It was too hard. I had you to take care of, and I just sort of went into survival mode.”
“Dad, I—”
“Just let me get this out.” I nodded again, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I’m proud of you. Always have been. You’re smart. You work hard. Have a good head on your shoulders.” If he noticed the shine in my eyes, he didn’t comment on it. “I was hard on you growing up because I was trying to compensate for you only having one parent. I wanted to make sure you were going to be a good person who could thrive and be successful.” He paused, looking down at his feet before looking back at me once again. “I guess I forgot to make sure you understood that I love you and I’m proud of you too.”
“I love you too, Dad,” I whispered, choking back the tears threatening to fall.
“I’m sorry, son. I’m probably never going to be the type of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, but I’ll try to remember to say something more often to…you know…let you know how I feel.”
I chuckled. I couldn’t help it. He was clearly so uncomfortable with all of this, but he was trying, and that meant the world to me.
