The walk to the front door feels endless. I'm aware of Dante's security following at a discreet distance—old habits die hard—but mostly I'm aware of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
I raise my hand to knock, but the door opens before I can.
Dad stands there, looking older than I remember. There are new lines around his eyes, new gray in his hair. The past weeks have aged him in ways that make my chest ache.
"Hannah." My name comes out like a prayer.
And then I'm in his arms, sobbing against his shoulder like I'm five years old again and he's the only person in the world who can make everything better.
"I'm sorry," he's saying, over and over. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted you to find out like this. I never wanted you involved in any of it."
"I know." I pull back, wiping my eyes. "I know, Dad."
"Can you forgive me? For the lies, for putting you in danger, for not being able to protect you when—" His voice cracks. "When he took you, I thought I'd lost you forever. I went to him, offered him anything, everything?—"
"I know," I say softly. "Dante told me."
Dad's eyes flick toward the car, and I see a complicated mix of emotions cross his face. Gratitude. Resentment. Fear. Grudging respect.
"He kept you safe," Dad finally says. "When I couldn't. I hate him for taking you, but I can't hate him for protecting you."
"He's a complicated man."
"That's one word for it."
I take his hands in mine. "I've already forgiven you, Dad. I forgave you the moment I understood why you did it. You were trying to give me a normal life. A safe life. I can't be angry at you for that."
His face crumples with relief, and he pulls me into another hug.
When we separate, I take a deep breath. "There's something I need to tell you."
"What is it?"
"You're going to be a grandfather."
The silence stretches for one heartbeat. Two.
Then his face breaks into the biggest smile I've ever seen, and he's laughing and crying at the same time, and I'm laughing and crying too.
"A grandfather," he repeats, wonder in his voice. "My baby girl is having a baby."
"Your baby girl is also getting married," I add. "To Dante."
Dad's expression flickers—just for a moment—with something complicated. He glances toward the car where Dante is still waiting.
"He's a dangerous man," Dad says quietly.
"I know."
"He comes from a violent world. The same world I spent twenty years trying to keep you away from."
"I know that too." I squeeze his hands. "But he walked away from it. For me. For our baby. He's building something new, Dad. Something better. And I want you to be part of it."
Dad is quiet for a long moment. Then he sighs, a sound of surrender and acceptance.
"If he makes you happy," he says finally, "then I suppose I can learn to live with it. God knows I'm not in a position to judge anyone's choices."
"He does make me happy. He really does."
