“But I’m still that guy with a criminal history. I can’t help that people can’t see past that, and Igetwhy that might make them uncomfortable.”
“Okay, I need to be very clear about something right now,” she says, her lips pursed in determination. “You are not breaking up with me.”
“Yeah, okay.”
She pulls me in for the briefest brush of her lips. Still holding my face, she says, “We’re going to fight the council. And we’re going to win.”
I’m not a man who blindly believes what people say. I’m not a man of luck or fortune. But somehow, through Addie’s indescribable magic, I don’t even question the how or the why.
We’re going to win.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Adelaide
My dad is waiting for me the second I get back to the house. I close my eyes and have the urge to drop my head to the steering wheel, but I don’t. No one gets the satisfaction of that reaction from me.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, grabbing the cake Zander got me, then slamming the car door with my hip. “What’s up?”
“Been waiting for you,” he says, standing from the bench at my front door.
“For five days?”
“Well, no.” He takes the cake from me. “What’s this? I’ve just been swinging by, hoping you’re in. I’ve wanted to talk.” He peers through the lid of the box, but it doesn’t clear any of his confusion. “What are you celebrating?”
“The ability to eat cake,” I say. “Do you want to come in? Willow’s not home.”
“I know. Otherwise, I would be waiting inside.”
“Did you lose your key? I’ve never changed the locks.” Though I might once I inevitably kick Willow out…whenever I build up the nerve.
I pull the key from my tote bag and unlock the door. I cannot wait to finally change. There’s something sexy about only wearing Zander’s shirts for a few days, but I do love the collection of clothes I’ve created. Dad hands me the cake once we’re inside and I make my way to the kitchen. I stash it in the space I leave empty for cake and note Willow has rearranged my fridge in my absence.
“Come on,” I whisper to the universe. I pull out a container of strawberries and a can of whipped cream. “Do you want anything?”
“No, just wanted to see my little girl.”
I smile, then squirt whipped cream directly into my mouth. As much as I don’t want to have this conversation, I’m just glad he’s finally talking to me.
“Well, hi, I’m here. You okay?”
“I’m worried about you, sweetie.”
“I’m really really…not. Like, at all. I think I always have a base level of concern for my own chaos, but I’ve felt a little more regulated recently.”
Dad heaves a sigh and sits down at my kitchen table. He gestures for me to join him. Okay, so this is a sit-down conversation. Glad I have whipped cream.
I grab a bowl out of the cupboard and a handful of strawberries which I rinse in the sink, then plop them in. I throw the rest back in the fridge and slowly make my way over to join my dad. In many ways, he’s my mirror. He has the same freckles and eyes, the same chaos lying underneath the surface, the same nervous mannerisms. What I do not possess, however, is his ability to hold a grudge.
“Just go for it,” I say.
“Addie, come on, what I’m saying isn’t unreasonable.”
“What are you saying this time?” He levels me with a stare that I should be able to interpret after almost thirty years, but there’s something guarded in it. “Because I got all the texts and I got the silent treatment. I don’t know what you want me to say at this point.”
“I just don’t understand how you’re in a relationship with someone the town wants to ban.”
“And I don’t understand why the town wants to ban him. What has he donein Beaver Creekthat makes anyone think he would be a bad fit? He’s been in town almost his entire life. He’s had lunches and dinners at his grandmother’s house for the last ten years and nothing has happened. The town didn’t implode. Why didn’t they do this to his parents who were actively and visibly harming him? Why now?”
