“She did. I still hope sometimes she comes back.” He looked at his folded hands like he was shamed to admit that. “And then you left too.”
“Daddy.”
He stood so abruptly, I was looking at an empty chair a second later.
“I know. Bad excuse. It’s the truth, though. Stress combined with loss of control can do a number on you.”
I immediately thought of Cade.
“Where is Caden lately?” he asked, reading my mind. “Did you two stop…seeing each other?” He sounded uncomfortable asking and I couldn’t blame him. I wasn’t comfortable talking to my father about either of my past relationships.
“We’re um…Yes, we stopped working together.” I stood, my heart aching. We’d stopped everything: working on his speech, sleeping together, kissing, texting…
I’d lost him.
An emotional lump clogged my throat. I offered the key back to my father. “Thank you for the car, Daddy, really, but I can’t accept it.”
“You can.”
“I can’t. Not if it makes me a stuck-up rich girl who thinks she’s too good for everyone around her.” I didn’t like how true that sounded.
“Tasha.” I couldn’t believe he’d used the shortened form of my name. And you could have knocked me over with a feather when he said, “You’re none of those things. You went into your field because you care for people a great deal. You care for Caden because you cared that he spoke again. You went to that hospital on your own. No one had to ask or demand you show up. You were there for Paul, for Caden. You are here now even though I don’t deserve you to be.”
I wasn’t going to lie, his approval—no, his pride—healed some deep wound inside me I hadn’t known was there.
“You’re an intelligent, brave, hardworking woman,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. It was so nice not to hear the word “beautiful” for a change.
“If I drive a Z4 around, people will believe I’m shallow,” I said, my tone teasing.
“People will talk no matter what. They’ll say you don’t deserve what you have whether you do or you don’t. And people will always try and fit you into the mold they are comfortable putting you in. It’s your job to stand strong and be who you are in spite of what anyone else tells you.”
There was a pregnant pause before he added, “Even me.”
“But—”
“Your car insurance is paid up for the year. She’s yours, Natasha. You earned it because you have busted your tail becoming exactly who you should become. And hearing what Tony put you through makes me see that you’ve endured more than your share of heartache. I’m sorry I didn’t support you when it came to him. He seemed like a nice boy.”
I closed my fist around the key. “Thanks, Daddy.”
We shared a smile, then his faded and he said, “If you’ll excuse me, I have a conference call. Have a good day.”
And that was it.
My father walked to his office and shut the door, and I stood in the kitchen, my Z4’s key in my hand. My dad was right. I was who I was and I couldn’t be anyone less. I was privileged, but I wouldn’t apologize for it. Having money didn’t make me a bad person. If Cade couldn’t see that after all we’d been through, then the blame for our breakup rested squarely on his shoulders.
It still hurt.
Every time I thought of his smile or his tattoos or stepped into my shower, I was reminded of a time I couldn’t forget and couldn’t get back.
But hurt felt better in a BMW convertible, I thought smugly.
Outside, I put the top down, threw my bag into the front seat, and slid my sunglasses onto my nose.
I had a test today and I was arriving in style.
—
“You seem…you seem okay.” Rena said this slowly, taking her time to lean over the bar and study me intently. It was Tuesday, Cade’s day off, and the restaurant was emptying out, having closed ten minutes ago.