FATHER:
DAISY
FATHER:
WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU????????
FATHER:
Silly girl. What have you done?
FATHER:
Seems like you have more of your brother’s antics in you than I thought. Not that you deserve to know, but the guests have been informed that no wedding will be taking place today, and we will be reaching out with further information soon. Damien has handled himself with grace throughout this ordeal. You better come back on your hands and knees and hope he gives you the opportunity to make this right. I’ve never been more disappointed in you.
“All right, that’s enough.” The phone is snatched out of my hands. Not that I could really read anymore through my tears. “Daisy, talk to me. Are you okay?”
Luke sits next to me, pulling my hands into his rough, calloused ones. The feeling shouldn’t be as comforting as it is, but I find myself leaning into his side for support.
“Want me to turn off the cell booster? Or we can make things simpler by blocking him. No one deserves to speak to you that way and continue to have access to you.” His hands gently squeeze mine, but the ferocity in his eyes is anything but soft.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
You’d think I’d be used to my father’s cruel commentary, but his scathing words are usually delivered in a teasing tone or with a shoulder squeeze. That physical contact is probably the closest thing I’ve gotten to a hug from the man in the last decade.
But there is no context or nuance on the planet that could help soften the blow.
I’ve embarrassed him. Publicly.
And I may have deluded myself over the years thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could come to treat me with the same love and adoration fathers do in the heartwarming movies I like to watch. And that it would somehow fill in the void in my chest caused by growing up without a mother, since she passed when I was a baby.
But at the end of the day, one thing I know for certain is that my father reveres his image and money above all else. And today, I have cost him both.
“Daisy, talk to me.” Luke wipes away tears before they have the chance to roll down my cheeks. “You’ve had a long day. Let me get you to bed. I’ll be here on the couch if you need anything.”
He tries to move me to stand, but his last words snap me out of my brain fog.
“What do you mean, couch?”
He looks momentarily confused. “I only have one bed.”
“Yes, I’m aware. I was here for the grand tour.” I wave around us.
He releases a deep breath while shaking his head, his face no longer looking panicked. “And that’s where you’ll sleep.” He raises a stern brow.
“Absolutely not. I am not taking your bed when I’ve already derailed your entire getaway.”
“I already told you I was already planning on being here. You’re not derailing anything.”
I stand and he quickly follows suit. I don’t know if I’m fired up because of those text messages from my father, or if I’m just itching for a feeling other than sadness. Either way, I’m ready for a showdown if it comes to that.
“You’re sleeping on that bed,Coach.” I point back toward it. “There’s no way around it. You can save the chivalrous spiel for another day. You’ve done enough rescuing as it is.” I fight the urge to stomp like a petulant child.
He runs a hand across his thick beard. “Hmm, is that so?”
I smile triumphantly and nod. “Yes. Besides, I’m smaller than you. Most of the human population is, I suppose, so that doesn’t say much, but it means I’ll fit much more comfortably on the couch than you, anyway.”
Looking down at the couch, I can already pick out the exact spot I’ll curl up on.
