“I know.” His voice softens, but the worry doesn’t fade. “I also know what it’s like to fall for someone who’s the life of the party. I know how easy it is to lose yourself in someone else’s orbit—and then wake up one day, wondering how your life ended up on a road you never meant to take.”
He gestures vaguely, like he’s trying not to sound accusatory. “It was a big weekend. The game. The celebrations. I can see how you might’ve gotten swept up in all the … frenzy.”
My stomach tightens.
I look down at my hands, at the ring catching the light, suddenly very aware of how permanent it looks.
“Dad,” I say quietly, “I didn’t marry him because he won a game or because we were caught up in the excitement.”
I lift my gaze, forcing myself to hold his eyes, trying to summon the confidence I felt yesterday—before doubt started creeping in from every direction.
“I married him because of who he is when the noise dies down. And Dad, I’ve had feelings for him for a while. The feelings…didn’t happen overnight.”
“I believe you feel that because it’s who you are. You see people with depth. I just think that a lot of change is about to come that boy’s way. He’s entering a career that rewardsselfishness. And I’m not saying that to be mean; it’s just the truth. I’m very proud of your brother, but he’s a man I know and raised. I don’t know Silas in the same way as I know my own son.”
“So, you think he’ll change,” I say.
“Honey, I think everything will change.” He reaches over to take my hand, and this time, I let him. “I’m just not sure where all this leaves you. And if I were a betting man, I would give this two months, tops. In fact, I’ll even get the annulment paperwork ready for you, so when it happens, you’ll be prepared.”
“Dad, that’s not fair. You don’t know what’s going to happen. And I’m not fragile. I can handle it. And it’s not like I don’t know the kind of dedication it takes to be a professional athlete.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think you’re fragile. I think you’ll allow yourself to endure more than you should. Like you always have.”
Well, that hits deep.
A bump of turbulence interrupts us, and I grab hold of the armrests.
“Are you okay?” my dad asks.
“I’m fine. The bumps make me nervous when we fly.”
He pauses, then starts to say something, then stops again. Takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.
“Do you love him?”
The question lands gently, but it hits hard.
I open my mouth, ready with something safe. Something practical. Something that keeps everyone calm. But nothing comes out.
Because love isn’t supposed to happen like this. It’s supposed to be slow. Earned. Measured in dates and time and certainty. Not in one reckless night that somehow turned intoeverything.
Except …
He makes me feel safe. Not in a grand, dramatic way, but just because he’s there. My mind stops racing because he isn’t asking me to be anyone other than who I already am.
He listens. Really listens. Not to respond, not to fix—just to understand.
He asks whatIwant—and means it.
He’s the calm after the panic.
“I think I could. I know I care an awful lot about him. But I’m not sure I can define those feelings yet.”
“I think he’s in love with you, but loving someone isn’t the hard part. It’s thestayingamid all the challenges and changes.”
I try to swallow down the lump in my throat.
“Silas hasn’t hesitated once, Dad.”
