He nodded. “We both love her, Axel. We just have different ideas about how she should live her life. It would be a shame to waste a gift that she’s been given.”
“A gift that she’s accomplished great things with already.” I narrowed my gaze at him. “It’s not up to anyone else to tell her how to use her gift. Not by controlling her with money, or guilting her to do something because you want her to. That’s not love, Charles.”
“Are you saying that I don’t love my daughter?” he asked, his voice coming out a bit harsher than before.
“No. I have no doubt that you love Wren. But telling her how to live her life, and making her think you won’t feel the same way about her if she doesn’t do what you want—that’s about control, not love.” I shrugged, waiting for him to explode on me, but he didn’t.
He blew out a breath. “A parent’s job is to make their child into the best version of themselves. Maybe when you’re a parent, you’ll understand that.”
“We can agree to disagree,” I said. “A parent’s job is to give their child the confidence to go out in the world and figure out what they want to do with their life. What makes them happy. And sometimes that means trying different things before they land on what they want. And then you celebrate the shit out of them, because it’s a journey. Come on, Charles. She’s already won. She has nothing to prove to anyone.”
“All right. I hear you.” He sighed. “I’ll back off about Wrax. How does that sound?”’
Like you’re trying to appease me.
“It sounds like a start.”
“Let me ask you something, Axel.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans.
“Sure.”
“If she came to you today and said she wanted to make the Olympic team, wanted to make that her legacy. How would you respond?”
“I’d be the loudest dude out there cheering for her.” I didn’t even hesitate. “I will support whatever she wants to do. And that’s love, Charles. It’s not about me. It’s about Wren and her happiness.”
He nodded. “Well, my soon-to-be-ex-wife keeps telling me I’m a narcissist, so maybe I’ve got some things to learn.”
“It’s not that complicated. Just love her for the amazing woman she is. Not for what she can accomplish. Because you’ll just push her further away if you keep doing that.”
He nodded and held up a hand. “Believe it or not, Axel, I’m glad you two found your way back to one another.”
That’s the first thing we agree on.
twenty-three
. . .
Wren
We wereat Sunday dinner at Ellie and Keaton’s home, and we couldn’t stop laughing about the aftermath of our little break-in incident.
“I’ll be the one to read this week’s ‘Taylor Tea,’ since we’ve got some outlaws sitting here at the table,” Rafe said as he cleared his throat.
“‘Hey there, Roses. The tea is overflowing once again this week in Rosewood River. Our favorite postman and his baby mama have given birth to their child, and apparently tensions are still running high with both families. But we wish our Roses well. In more exciting news… It’s been the topic of everyone in town, but there was a break-in at theRosewood River Reviewlast week. Word on Main Street is that a couple local teens broke in and left their bottle of booze behind when they fled through the window. Clearly, they aren’t built for a life of crime. But what they were looking for still remains a mystery. Xoxo.’”
“I agree that the culprits are not cut out for a life of crime,” Bridger said, smirking at Emilia.
“What’s a culpy, Daddy?” Melody asked.
“Culprit, baby girl. It’s a person responsible for a crime,” he said with a chuckle. “But sometimes the culprits are sitting at your dinner table.”
Laughter bellowed around the room.
“And they drove all the way to Snowcap Mountain so they could spy on the meeting between Jazzy and Emilia’s parents,” Easton said as he covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smile.
“Hey, we were doing our due diligence,” Lulu pointed out.
“At least you found out that Jazzy isn’t the one writing ‘The Taylor Tea,’ though, right?” Isabelle asked, and she winked at me.
