Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
When I stop speaking, I feel the weight lift off my shoulders from the many years of holding on to this information. I probably shouldn’t have spilled it all out like that, but I doubt there’s a good or proper way to bring up the subject.
The other side of the line is quiet for so long that I pull my phone away from my ear to make sure the call hasn’t dropped.
And then my dad speaks…
“Oh, Paige,” he murmurs. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Does it matter? You said what you said, and I heard.”
“Of course it matters,” he chokes out, emotion seeping through each word. “It matters because that was over fifteen years ago, and this entire time, you thought I didn’t want you when that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Oh my God,” he sobs, making my body tense up because I wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction from him.
I thought he’d be shocked, maybe embarrassed, but I didn’t think he’d be…upset.
“I didn’t know,” he says. “I didn’t understand why you’d pushed me away. I thought it was because you were grieving your mother’s death, and then I moved us out of London, which I knew you were upset about. But now, it all makes sense.”
“I was grieving Mom, and I was mad that you’d moved us,” I tell him. “But I was also upset that you didn’t want me. I know Mom and I were closer because you traveled a lot for work, but I thought we had our own special relationship. But then you told her you never wanted me, never wanted a family, and—”
“I didn’t mean it,” he says, his words making me dizzy.
I take a deep breath, confused because I know what I heard. “What do you mean, you didn’t mean it? Why would you say something like that if you didn’t mean it?”
Nate tightens his hold around me, silently reminding me that he’s here.
“I didn’t know you were home,” Dad says. “I was mad at your mother. She had just told me she was stopping the treatments, and I was terrified I was going to lose her. So, I said things I didn’t mean in hopes that she would change her mind. Her biggest fear was leaving you, so I used it against her. I’m so sorry, Paige. You have to know that I didn’t mean it. I love you. You and your mother were my entire world. How could I not love and want you? You are the best parts of your mom and me.”
He sobs through the phone, and a lump of emotion fills my throat.
“But you said…”
Oh God. I got it all wrong.
“I apologized to your mom that night,” he says. “I told her I was sorry and that I didn’t mean it. She, of course, knew that I hadn’t. But I didn’t know…fuck, Paige. All these years, you thought I didn’t want you. It’s why you moved away and never came home, isn’t it? I should’ve known something was wrong. I should’ve forced you to talk to me. Debbie told me so many times to talk to you, to ask if I did something wrong, but I’ve never been the best at communicating. That’s no excuse though. I’m your father, and I should’ve pushed…”
“It takes two,” I tell him as tears drip down my cheeks. “I was hurt. And then you met Debbie and started this whole new life with her, and I didn’t understand why you wanted Kristin and Ashleigh and not me. I should’ve talked to you. I shouldn’t have let it go on this long.”
“I swear I have always wanted you,” Dad says. “When your mom first died, it was hard because you looked so much like her and had the same mannerisms, and I missed her like crazy. I knew you were upset with me for moving, but it felt like everywhere and everything was filled with your mom, and it was just so damn hard.”
I release a soft sob because I get it. As much as I love London, it’s not the same without her.
“I knew it was cowardly to move us away,” he continues, “and I knew you were upset. But I didn’t know what you had overheard. If I had, I would’ve done everything in my power to show you how much I love you. Damn it!” he barks. “Your mom left this world, thinking you would have me, and I failed you.”
“No, Dad,” I sob. “You didn’t fail me. I should’ve asked, but I was too scared of hearing you admit it. Which was stupid because I went years without seeing you. Years we can never get back. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Dad says. “I’m just glad that you finally told me. I miss you, honey. Please tell me I can see you. I want a relationship with you, one with more than monthly phone calls.”