“Sounds like you could use the water.” She moved in close, angling the straw at my mouth. The cool, wet drink was like sipping from a mountain stream.
And Ava was here. I didn’t care what I’d been through. This was heaven.
Ava set the cup down. “They said everything is all hooked up. They won’t turn it on until you get back to your doctor in Austin, though.”
A nurse slid back the curtain. “You’re awake! Let’s look you over and see when you might be ready to roll out of here.”
She inflated a cuff on my arm, but I kept my eyes on Ava. This was almost certainly the first day of the next, best part of my life.
CHAPTER 33
Ava
Tucker’s recovery went perfectly, and he was discharged right on time. After making sure he and Gram were settled at the hotel, I arranged for a ride to a Mexican restaurant my father had chosen.
He had a headshot on his company website, so I felt reasonably sure I could spot him. We bore only a passing resemblance. Maybe something about our eyes or nose.
The restaurant was quiet, caught in the lull between lunch and dinner. Colored flags fluttered in the air conditioning as I searched for him.
One man sat alone in the center of the sea of square tables. He matched the photograph, his dark hair peppered with gray, cut short in a corporate style. He dressed on the high end of casual in a pale blue polo shirt and khaki pants. He could’ve been anyone’s middle-aged father. However, he was mine.
I wound my way through the tables and headed for him. He noticed me and stood. I extended a hand as I got near. Rather than call him the wrong thing, Dad or Marcus or Mr. Roberts, I simply said, “Hello.”
He clasped my hand in both of his, like an embrace. “Ava. What a lovely young woman you’ve become.”
He pulled out my chair. I sat, feeling off balance, my stomach quivering. Nothing about him felt familiar.
“So how is work with the oil company?” I had prepared opening questions. I wasn’t sure exactly how we might break the awkwardness.
“Good. I like it. Helps me prepare for college bills.”
My heart plummeted. The other daughters. I’d learned since the first email that he had two of them. Ones who didn’t forget him.
“What are their names again?” I tried to make my voice normal, but it still wavered.
My father must’ve heard that note and shifted his gaze. “My oldest daughter is Amanda. She’s hoping to go to Tulane when she graduates high school.”
My heart thundered down to my belly.Iwas his oldest daughter. Not Amanda.
“And the other?”
“Jennifer. She’s twelve.”
Jennifer and Amanda. The sisters I’d never met.
“Your name is on my birth certificate,” I said. “But, given the circumstances, I wanted to confirm with you personally that you are my biological father.”
He sat straighter, his hands on the table going still. “Did your mother suggest that?”
“No, I don’t have a reason to question it, other than the fact that…” I hesitated. “You left us.”
He didn’t answer right away, his fingers drumming lightly on the wood surface.
“Your mother and I were married and very much in love when you were conceived. I have no reason to doubt that you are mine.”
The server chose that moment to approach with her bouncy walk and bright smile. “Can I get you two something to drink?”
“Just water,” I said.
