“All of it. Any of it. Mom, me, Gina. If you knew back then that you’d be sitting here now in this moment, would you do it again?”
“What the hell kind of question is that?”
I blanched. It seemed like a perfectlyvalidquestion. Why would anyone look back over two painful loves, tumultuous marriages and subsequent divorces—and want to do it all over again?
“Why would I regret my life?” he asked. “What’s going on with you?”
“I just . . .” I paused, glancing up at the ceiling to blink back tears. “I’m afraid of getting hurt. I’ve never felt anything like this before. What if one day David realizes I’m not enough—or that I can’t give him what he needs—and he has no choice but to leave, even if he loves me? Like you still love Gina?”
My father slid his chair over to mine and put his arm around me. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, huh? I don’t regret a goddamn single thing. I would love and lose Gina again in a heartbeat, because we’re both better people for it. She gave me something so beautiful, I could never regret it.” He hugged me to his side. “And your mother gave me you, among many other things. Every decision I made was right at the time, and I can’t say that any of them turned out badly.”
I looked up at him through tear-blurry eyes and let him hold me. I’d made many regretful decisions, but they’d led me to David. So would I change any of them? And if David and I didn’t make it, but we’d still spent this time loving each other . . . how could that be bad? Wasn’t it better than never experiencing the bliss of loving him at all?
When we got to the house, I went directly upstairs to my childhood bedroom. The early flight plus the news of my dad’s affair had me wrecked, so I lay down and tried to wrap my head around everything I’d just learned as shock still reverberated in me. He’d survived what I was going through. And he’d do it all again.
I’d always thought that keeping others out was the same thing as strength. It made me pragmatic, unemotional. But I was quickly learning that it meant the opposite—strength meant opening myself to another person without a guaranteed outcome.
Later, I woke groggily from a deep nap. As I headed downstairs to find my dad, I took my phone off silent to find two voicemails from David, one from Gretchen, and a missed text from her asking why I wasn’t picking up her calls.
I yawned and fell into a kitchen chair to listen to David’s messages. My heart skipped knowing that I would get to hear his voice, but before I could, a knock came on the front door.
“Dad,” I called to no response. I groaned and padded to the door. When I pulled it open, my heart went from a skip to a leap.
17
At the comforting sight of David on my dad’s doorstep, relief, love, and happiness flooded through me. I almost didn’t recognize the high pitch of my voice as I said his name. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
David nodded at my phone clutched in my hand. “I’m beginning to wonder why I even got you that thing.”
I released an awed laugh. “I’m sorry. I was taking a nap. I can’t believe you came. I thought . . .”
“What, that I could wait to finish our conversation until you got back?” he asked.
“You’re kind of persistent, aren’t you?” I teased.
His eyebrows lowered. “When you didn’t pick up your phone, I called Gretchen. If not for her, I’d be wandering around the streets of Dallas by myself.”
I gaped at him a moment before giving in to a big smile and moving aside. “Come in.”
He took a tentative step through the door. “Where’s your dad?”
“He’s here. Where’s your stuff?”
“A hotel.”
“Oh.” I clutched my heart, hating the thought that David might not think he was welcome. “You shouldn’t have done that. You can stay here.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“You won’t.” I closed the door and leaned my back against it. “How’s Alex?”
David’s face lit up in a way that tugged at my heart, and he finally smiled. “He’s a trouper. In recovery and doing great.”
“Good. I was worried. I should probably be asking howJessais.”
“Stressed,” he said, sighing. “But relieved that the surgery went well. We all are.”
I wanted to reach for him, to seek comfort in his arms, but after our last tense conversation, I wasn’t sure that he’d be open to that. “Can I, um, get you anything?” I asked.
