Page 72 of Honeyed

“You showed up, I guess I had to.” I don’t give him anything because I’m still rightly pissed about what he said to Warren after finding out about the origins of our marriage.

Dad takes a deep breath and then holds my gaze.

“I’m so proud of you. I hate that my words and actions haven’t portrayed that. What I said to you was so wrong, and I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you; you’ve always known exactly who you are and exactly what you want. It’s scared me at times, and you’re right, it’s because you’re my little girl. My only girl. I’m the one who is supposed to protect your heart and dreams, encourage them, and make sure you’re okay. That might seem bad compared to the boys, but it’s all I’ve known in terms of family.

“Then, all in a month, you go and get married without me there and buy a store that will take you away from the legacy I’ve always wanted to leave to my children? I didn’t know how to react. So I lashed out, giving you angry words instead of congratulating you and helping wherever you needed me. Warren couldn’t be a better man to pick to spend your life with, and of course, you know what you’re doing with Lily.

“Part of me has a hard time letting go of my children, but especially you. My only girl. When I held you in my arms for the first time, I knew I had a special job when it came to you. I just … I want you to have every single thing you hope for. I’m a selfish old man at times, and not being included, well, it only became more apparent that I was losing you.”

By the time he finishes, tears are streaming down both of our faces, and I’m struggling to take a deep breath.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear from you, Dad. Deep down, I knew all of that, but when you say the exact opposite and act as if nothing I do makes you proud, it kills me inside. I know I messed up leaving you and our family out of a lot of my decisions, I’ll own that. But they’re my mistakes to make. You always told us growing up that even if we made mistakes, you’d always love us. That you’d always stand by our sides. And then you didn’t, and it hurt so much. Lily is one thing, because I’m thriving with that in spite of you, so I guess I should thank you. But Warren? My marriage? I never thought you’d actually disapprove of that, even if you felt sad not to be included.”

“I don’t. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It’s all I can say and show you that I can do better. That I can be there for both of you like I should have from the beginning. There is no excuse. I’m so proud of all you’ve accomplished not just this year, but in your life. You’ve gone for everything you’ve wanted and achieved it, without help from us and even in spite of help from us. I owe Warren an enormous apology; he is the type of man any father would want their daughter to be with, and you deserve every ounce of support and love he gives you.”

Exhaustion seeps into my bones. While I’m still sad, and words don’t cure things instantly, I hate fighting with my family. I don’t want to avoid my dad. I want to include everyone in how happy Warren and I are together.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” I say, stepping into him.

His arms come around me like they always have, safe and protective. “I don’t either. I’m sorry once again. I know it’ll take time to show you that with more than words, but I promise I’m going to try my hardest, little girl.”

We stay locked like that for a few minutes, a father hugging his daughter as if he could see her as the small girl who skinned her knee and needed him for comfort.

It’s strange, fighting with your parents when you’re an adult as well. They’re still up on this pedestal, but you realize they’re human. They make mistakes just like you. And for one of the first times in your life, you realize that you’ll have to work on having a relationship with the person who is predetermined to love you.

“After this is over, can I take you out for waffles? Diner date, just like we used to do?” Dad asks with hope in his eyes.

We haven’t had a diner date in forever, but when I was little, he used to take me there almost every Sunday afternoon, just the two of us.

“I’d love that,” I tell him, genuinely meaning it.

So after we celebrate the little baby on its way to be the next generation of our family, I go to the diner with my dad, just the two of us.

30

ALANA

If you grow up in Hope Crest, you know that Fourth of July is spent in a lawn chair on the banks of the river, drinking and eating until it gets dark enough for the town council to set off fireworks from the boat anchored in the middle of the river.

The only thing different about this year is that I’m sitting on my husband’s lap while he occupies said lawn chair.

We’re one unit, enjoying our beers in bottles as the rest of the town lines the lapping shores around us, the smell of caramel corn, hot dogs, and cotton candy wafting in the air around us. Little kids play in the shallow waves, skipping stones as the sun sets, and we all wait for the bursts of colors to fill the sky. Somewhere close, a local amateur band plays a cover of a country song, and some people dance barefoot in the grass.

“Why are they letting those two teenage morons who almost blew themselves up last year do this year’s display again?” Evan asks as he sips a beer in the chair beside Warren and me.

“Because no one else feels like getting blown up.” Liam snorts, in a rare good mood these days.

Tonight is one of the only nights of the year that my parents close Hope Pizza entirely. We don’t do any kind of meals or takeout from the restaurant on Fourth of July so that the family can relax and celebrate together. Just like around Christmas time, Patrick bitches that it could bring in a shit ton of money for the people who don’t want to cook on the holiday and will just order pizza, but money has never meant more than family to my parents.

“Remember the year Warren helped the EMTs put on the show?” Patrick cackles.

We all burst out laughing, and Warren nuzzles his lips into my neck from behind, making me titter with something more than just hysterics.

“He almost fell off the damn platform into the water when the first firework went off.” Liam booms with a laugh.

Warren flips us all the bird. “Laugh it up, chuckleheads. I got paid a hundred bucks for that since no one else volunteered. They felt so bad for me that they gave me the leftover fireworks, too.”

“That’s where we got those for the end of summer bonfire!” Patrick hits his head as if he’s just remembering.

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