“For what it’s worth, I think it would be a mistake to let him go.”
“Maybe,” I say. “I’ve got some time to think about it. Until the French Open, at least.”
“Okay, I’ll drop it. For now.” She smirks, gathering her purse and standing up. “Let’s go, we have groceries to get.”
“Yes,Mom,” I tease and she drags me out of the coffee shop and to the farmers market across the street.
By the timethe doorbell rings, I’m a couple of glasses of wine in and enjoying myself, listening to Max and Andreea recount stories from their Bahamas wedding.
Andreea moves off the couch to greet our dad and Max stands, straightening his short sleeved button down.
“You’re trying too hard,” I mutter, taking another sip of wine.
He squints down at me and smiles. “I know, but it’s really important to her that we get along. So no matter how much he gets on my nerves, it’s worth it to me,” Max says, shrugging.
I sigh and stand up too, ready to hear my dad’s criticism as to why I’m here when I should be on the court, practicing. Except…it doesn’t come.
My dad, the hardass who won’t even show up to my games, the man who I’ve been avoiding for so long, he’s nowhere to be seen. The man in front of me is all smiles as he greets me, pulling me into a hug.
I stand there awkwardly, hands at my sides as his familiar scent wraps around me. Looking over at Andreea, she gives me an excited smile and a thumbs up, but I’m too shocked to even react.
Finally, Dad pulls back but keeps both his hands on my shoulders. “It’s really good to see you,pi?cot,” he says, using my old Romanian nickname. I don’t remember why he everstarted calling meladyfingerbut I haven’t heard him say it since I went to college.
I grind my teeth, trying hard not to get angry or tell him to fuck off. I’ll be nice for the sake of my sister. Although, deep down I feel a prickle of jealousy. Why do they get along so well now? What changed? Did I miss the memo that we were supposed to reconcile with our parents? Are we just supposed to forgive and forget the trauma of the divorce?
Stubborn as I am, I keep my conversation with Dad to a minimum, giving him one word answers to his questions during dinner.
“How have you been?” he asks, taking a bite of salad.
“Fine.” I stab my lettuce with more force than I should and stuff my mouth with it.
“Are you enjoying Florida?” he continues, taking a sip of wine.
“Yes,” I say, occupying my hands with the napkin so I don’t stab him with a fork.
“Do you think you’ll stay there?”
“Seeing how that’s my home, I’ll probably stay,” I say, annoyed. I look up and see my sister frowning at us both, Max’s hand patting hers.
“Are you ready for the French Open?” he asks out of the blue and I snap my attention back to him. His blue eyes, the same dark shade as mine, pin me to the chair.
My lips part in surprise, but then anger takes over. It’s ugly and petty, but I can’t pretend that I don’t resent this man. So I say, “Why the fuck do you care all of a sudden?”
Andreea gasps but I don’t dare look at her. My anger is pinned solely on my father. He blinks, taken aback. A divot forms between his eyebrows and he says, “I’ve always cared. You’re my daughter.”
“Bullshit,” I say, pointing a fork at him. “In ten years, youhaven’t been to a single one of my games. Not in college, not when I was struggling to make a name for myself, and not once have you been to one of my major tournaments.”
His face softens in what I can only assume is shame and admonishment. “You made it clear that you wanted to forge your own path and that you didn’t want anything to do with me and my spotlight. I was simply following your wishes,” he says, reaching out a hand and squeezing my shaking fingers. I yank it back like I’ve been burnt.
“Just because I wanted to make it on my own doesn’t mean I didn’t want or need your support,” I whisper, inhaling shakily and blink back tears.
His fingers curl into a fist on the table. “I know. And you’re right. I’m so very sorry for not seeing that sooner.”
I hold his gaze, seeing the sincerity there. Nodding, I eat a few more bites of food, hating that I made a scene at the dinner table. Andreea and Max don’t say anything which makes me glad.
But then Dad says, “Last time I saw you, Rowan said he might be switching to doubles. Do you plan on being his partner?”
The pang in my heart grows and I set my fork down, not able to take another bite of food. “No, Dad. I don’t think that’s for me.”
