I give the hostess my name and am pleasantly surprised when she moves to seat me immediately. My father’s on time. It’s probably a first.
That has to be a good sign, right?
I smooth my hair, determined to make a good impression. I haven’t seen my father in almost four years. When he told Mom and me he couldn’t afford to help with my college tuition—despite years of not paying child support—and wished me the best of luck.
Like luck would pay the bills.
But a lot’s changed since then. I’ve changed. The fact that we’re about to share a meal is testament to that fact. Spending time with Austin, getting to know him has me questioning everything I thought I knew about football players, about my father. Wondering if maybe I should give my dad a second chance. Wondering if he deserves it, if perhaps he’s changed too.
What would it be like to have my father in my life? I’m not sure. And that scares the hell out of me because I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m a grown woman. One who doesn’t really even know her father, although I can’t deny I want to. Some sad, desperate part of me still wants him in my life, despite everything. To have him love me unconditionally. To support my hopes and dreams. To walk me down the aisle one day. To be a meaningful part of my life.
I want it so badly it’s become a dull ache in my chest.
It might be too much to hope for after everything he’s put Mom and me through. Which is why I didn’t tell her I was seeing him. She wouldn’t approve. And I don’t want to hurt her—she’s been my mother, my father, and my best friend for twenty-one years—but I can’t deny this is something I need to do.
For me.
I’ll know soon enough if it was the right choice.
The hostess leads me to a table in the back corner of the restaurant, our feet padding silently over the plush carpet. We weave through a sea of empty tables set with crisp white linens, blue napkins, and enough silverware to give me a panic attack. She stops, and I nearly crash into her.
Focus.
The hostess steps aside and gestures to an empty chair, leaving me face-to-face with my dad. I’d forgotten how much we look alike. Same wavy hair, same dark eyes, same broad smile. One that shows all his teeth, although I suspect he shares his more freely. The years have been good to him—despite his lifestyle—and I’m hit with another stab of resentment. Mom would probably have a few less worry lines if he’d ever bothered to help out.
But tonight is about second chances, not dredging up the past. If he’s really changed, if he truly wants to start over, maybe I could forgive him. Maybe I could make a place for him in my life.
After all, he is my father.
He stands and embraces me in an awkward hug, his long arms wrapped around my shoulders. I return the gesture, but it’s a relief when we break apart. Fuck. We can’t even hug properly. This meal has disaster written all over it.
Be. Positive.
“Kenny.” He gestures for me to sit and slides smoothly back into his own chair. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Kennedy,” I say, correcting him as I drop into my seat and cross my ankles. The hostess scurries off to find the server and the urge to follow her is strong.
“Kennedy,” he says, nodding his head in acknowledgment. “How have you been?”
Talk about a loaded question. Where do I even start? My stomach clenches, and I reach for my water and take an uncivilized gulp. My mouth is suddenly parched. This feels all wrong. But I force myself to paste on a smile and try. Otherwise, what was the point? “School’s going well, although I’m looking forward to graduation in the spring.”
His smile is encouraging, and we make small talk as we look over the menu. When the server finally arrives to recite the daily specials, I’m relieved my father suggests we place our orders. He doesn’t want this meal to drag out any more than I do. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It just means we’re both being cautious, wading slowly into uncertain waters.
I should be thrilled we’re on the same page, right?
Once our orders are placed, the conversation turns to football. I should’ve expected as much. It might be the one thing we actually have in common. The irony isn’t lost on me.
“So, how do you like playing football at Waverly?” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “The team treating you well?”
I bite my lip, contemplating my response. “I only joined the team because they offered me a full scholarship, but I enjoy the game more than I thought I would.” I would swear his eyes darken, but when I blink, they remain bright and interested. “I’m not, however, a fan of the pressure that comes with kicking a field goal when the game’s on the line. That part kind of sucks.”
“You think that’s bad, try being the QB. Every loss hangs on your shoulders.” He sips his whiskey. “One day you’re the prized bull, the next you’re sent to slaughter.”
I know he’s talking about his experience, but it’s Austin I picture in my mind’s eye. Austin who carries the weight of the team on his shoulders, whether anyone expects him to or not. I’m surprised my father felt that same burden. God knows the only side of him I’ve seen in the past is a selfish one.
But tonight’s different. He’s showing interest in my life, trying to connect with me. “Don’t get me wrong. I know how lucky I am to be playing D1 football, and I certainly don’t think I have the toughest job on the team. I’m just not used to being in the spotlight like that. It’s different in soccer.”
My father levels his gaze at me. “Speaking of the spotlight, I should probably congratulate you on being the first woman to ever get a D1 football scholarship. That’s a big deal.”
