A long pause stretches between us before he finally breaks it.
“You seem different these days.”
Tension coils in my shoulders. “And what does that mean?”
He watches me carefully, as if studying the shifts in my demeanor. “You’ve stopped pretending,” he remarks. “You seem more comfortable with yourself.” He lifts his glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, before adding, “And I suspect that has something to do with the woman currently waiting for you.”
My fingers twitch at my sides. My father hardly acknowledges my personal life.
“And what are you implying?” I ask, my voice deceptively calm.
He tilts his head slightly. “A good woman can change everything.”
I go completely still.
“Your mother did that for me,” he continues, his tone uncharacteristically sentimental. “I was a different man before Renée. She softened things in me I didn’t know could be softened. She brought something into my life that I didn’t know I needed, and that is why she has been my strength and stay all these years.” His gaze sharpens slightly. “I think Olivia is that for you.”
I still. I don’t want to see humanity in my father or acknowledge that he understands something about love that I do not.
“Even in my life, there were times when it truly felt unbearable,” he goes on, “but knowing that I was coming home to Renée gave me purpose. I would die for that woman, and having someone for whom I felt that strongly about kept me going even on my worst days.”
My confusion sharpens into suspicion. “What are you trying to tell me?”
He meets my gaze, steady and unflinching.
“That I’m seeing now how hard things have been for you, and I’m happy you have someone who eases those burdens for you. What I’m trying to say,” he pauses, letting the weight of it settle, “is that if you want to be with Olivia, and if that’s what she wants too, I support it. I supportyou.”
My chest tightens.
“Despite how it might seem to you,” he continues, his voice lower, “there are things I’ve done that I actually regret…forgetting that I’m your father is one of them. I want to try to do better by you, Nathaniel.”
I have no idea how to respond.
It’s the closest thing to an apology my father has ever given me. And I have no fucking clue what to do with it.
He straightens then, smoothing down the cuff of his sleeve, resetting the balance between us as if nothing has changed. “I won’t keep you from your evening.”
I hesitate. My body feels strange—weighted, uncertain. Something fundamental has shifted, and I’m not sure what to do with the space it has left behind.
I reach for the door handle but pause.
“Merry Christmas, Father.” The words are quieter than I intend.
His reply is steady, practiced. But there’s something real beneath it this time. “Merry Christmas, Son.”
I walk back toward Olivia, my mind racing, my heart unsettled. My father didn’t change overnight. But tonight, he showed me a glimpse of something I didn’t think possible.
It has left me disoriented, as if the foundation of something I had always relied on has shifted beneath my feet.
I don’t know what to do with it.
But I do know one thing: I need to get back to Olivia.
She’s my gravity. If I can just see her, touch her, the world will make sense again.
Yet, when I step back into the grand foyer, where I left her, she’s nowhere in sight.
A sharp spike of unease lances through my chest. My rational mind tells me she’s fine—she has to be. She’s still in this house, safe within these walls. But my instincts scream otherwise. She wouldn’t leave without saying anything…would she?
