He flicks a hand at me, his bangles jingling. “Oh, you stop. In your condition, I want you to eat everything your heart desires.”He pats my cheek before looking at Patton. “And how is my son-in-law treating you?”
Patton and I exchange an awkward glance. It’s been ages since Dad’s referred to him as his son-in-law—at least in Patton’s vicinity—but something in his tone suggests it wasn’t a slip of the tongue.
I narrow my eyes at Patton. “He’s not letting me lift a finger, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Dad squeezes Patton’s bicep with mostly affection, and perhaps a little flirting—because, of course, he does. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. I was just telling Emanuel how much I’ve missed our monthly calls.”
My head snaps to Patton, who looks like he’s been zapped by a live wire. “Pardon? Yourmonthly calls?”
“Oh, my.” Dad places his fingers on his lips, feigning innocence. “Did I accidentally say that out loud?”
“Dad—”
“Now, before you get that look on your face, darling,” Dad cuts me off. “You should know that divorce or no divorce, I have loved this boy like he was my own since you were sixteen, watchingFamily Guyreruns on our couch. Just because you two couldn’t figure out your crap, didn’t mean I was ready to lose a son.”
Vulnerability and gratefulness shines in Patton’s eyes.
“You had people, Nisha,” Dad continues. “You had me, your sister, and Piper. Yes, you went through something extremely traumatic, but so did this man. And he repented every single day for the hurt he caused you. But what sort of father would I be if I left him with no one to talk to during the worst time of his life?”
Patton runs a hand down his face, taking in a shaky breath. I know him well enough to know he’s holding back tears.
Jaw tightening, he nods at my dad with so much affection in his eyes, it squeezes my lungs. “Thank you, Suraj. I”—he clears his throat—“I wouldn’t be standing here without you.”
My eyes widen. “What does that even mean? That you wouldn’t be standing here without him?”
Patton squeezes his eyes shut, taking a moment to ground himself. “I went through some dark times, Neesh. Times when I needed someone who knew me—actuallyknew me and wanted nothing from me. Your dad was . . .” He pauses, his throat bobbing. “He was always a phone call away. And when I told him how much I still wanted you back, he told me how you’d be at that tournament in L.A. He’s also the one who gave me your new phone number.”
My mouth drops open as I look at my dad, who simply shrugs.
“Oh, I know you’re my daughter, but stop with your theatrics, darling. I kept my mouth shut for six years when it came to your whereabouts, aside from generally letting him know you were doing okay. But the man would not shut up about you. And you were no better . . . what with your online stalking and watching each of his movies dozens of times. I decided that enough was enough. I had to do something! So, I may have casually suggested that he show up at that tournament to win you back. But, of course, my daughters are nothing if not stubborn mules. The poor guy had to pitch an entire movie idea and move in across the street from you just to get your attention.”
“Oh. My. God,” I say slowly, placing my hand over my forehead, wondering if I’m coming down with a fever. “I was wondering how you got my number and texted me with the ‘Hey’ all those weeks ago.”
Patton squints at me accusingly. “Which you never responded to, by the way.”
I point a finger at my dad. “You scheming, underhanded?—”
Completely ignoring my meltdown, Dad turns to my ex-husband. “Yes, well . . . Patton, I think you can take it from here, can’t you, son? My work is done, and I do believe that wine is calling my name.”
“Dad!” I call at his retreating back, half-shocked, half-amused. “Are you serious right now? You’re going to drop a bombshell like that and just . . . leave?”
“Sweetheart, let this go.” Dad flicks his wrist again. “Focus on your present and future. The past has weighed you down long enough, don’t you think?”
My shoulders slump as the truth in his words land like gentle slaps. For a moment, I’m frozen and then, all at once, a stream of tears rolls down my cheeks like a damn waterfall.Stupid pregnancy hormones!
But it’s not just the hormones; it’s the realization that Dad spoke to Patton regularly. Comforted him, cared for him when my ex needed someone. And he did so while respecting my boundaries and wishes but understanding my heart.
Dad rarely meddled over the years, though he did call me a stubborn mule on more than one occasion. So as much as I want to be angry about his hand in this, I can’t be. Because my dad—someone both my sister and I have always agreed is the greatest father in the universe—has wanted nothing but the best for us.
So yes, he schemed a little. But I’ll forgive him for it.
Dad gathers me into a hug. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
I sniffle into his collar. “No, I’m not upset.”
“Are you sure? Because you seem perfectly intent on ruining my four-hundred-dollar handwoven shirt with your snot.”
I snort-laugh. “You have a hundred of the same ones in your closet.”
