Chapter 34
thirty-four
“What are you doing here?”
My father tsks. “Now, is that any way to greet your father? I see this rebellious streak still hasn’t worked its way out of your system like I had hoped.” He lifts from my chair and starts to round my desk.
I instinctively take a step back.
He tracks the motion and sighs, as if it deeply inconveniences him.
“Daisy, come on now. What has gotten into you? First, you’re nowhere to be found on your wedding day, leaving a smear of lipstick on a mirror as a sick form of joke.
Then you block me from your phone, something my assistant had to explain to me after I couldn’t get through to you.
Do you know how embarrassing it is to have a member of your staff explain to you that your one and only daughter has decided to block her father after causing quite the scandal? ”
I stiffen at his words.
Then I feel it. The old Daisy, discreetly trying to slip back into place. The version of myself that hates disappointing others and feels guilt for being an inconvenience.
But that’s the thing about people pleasing. You become so accustomed to putting other people’s needs before your own that standing up for yourself starts to feel like a radical form of resistance. Because in a way, it is.
I clear my throat, battling with the urge to start my sentence with an apology.
Because I’m not sorry. And if I were to apologize to anyone at this point, it would be the hundreds of guests who traveled from near and far for a wedding that never was.
And even then, I’m sure they flew in on private jets and were gifted free societal gossip to last them well into the holidays.
So instead, I steel my spine with the little strength I have left over from my week at the cabin and ask what I really need to know.
“Were you in on it?”
My father seems momentarily confused, but I’m not sure if it’s because of my question or because I’m not cowering in a corner, begging for his forgiveness.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Damien told me everything. Or at least enough for me to know that our relationship was one big PR stunt. And from what I gather, you were in charge of making sure I always played my part. Is that true?”
My father grits his teeth as his jaw ticks to the side.
That’s more emotion than I’ve seen from him in years.
He always seems so unflappable around me.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Are you sure you are well? You seem different.
Maybe I should take you to see a doctor and get your head checked while we’re there.
” He lifts his arm, aiming for the door, but I push it down, truly shocking him.
“I know about the other women. How he intended to use me for votes. And I know that you told him you would ‘handle’ me. Apparently after I was a no-show at the wedding, you got a demotion or something, because now he seems to be sending our stupid save the dates as some form of public statement. Care to comment on any of that?”
“Daisy,” he starts with a patronizing tone.
“You have much to learn about men in power and their pride. I don’t know about all this nonsense you speak of, but if Damien said all this to you, surely it was coming from a place of hurt.
The man was left at the altar and humiliated in front of his peers, during a campaign year no less, so you must be able to empathize that a hurt man will say awful things when he’s down. ”
“I must empathize?” I repeat. “Either you’re lying to cover for that man—for God knows what reason, since your loyalty should lie with me, your daughter—or you really are clueless about the snake I was engaged to and have still decided to turn a blind eye when confronted with the truth. So which one is it?”
My father takes a step back, looking me up and down as if he’s seeing me for the very first time.
His face barely conceals his sneer as he asks, “Why are you dressed like that? I know you haven’t been to your apartment since you up and vanished, but this is different. And your hair. You couldn’t find a hairbrush in whatever hidey hole you ran off to?”
I suck in a shocked breath. I’m used to my father’s microaggressions. To the point where I convince myself that some of them are potential terms of endearment. But having my white father criticize the hair I inherited from my Afro-Latina mother feels like a stab to the heart.
“Get out.” I barely manage to whisper the words, not willing to let him see how deeply he cut me.
He looks bored, and by his tone, I’m doing a shit job of keeping my emotions under wraps. “Oh, come on now. I ask why you haven’t gone to the hair salon, and I get kicked out?” He pinches the bridge of his nose.
Because of course my natural hair texture should be cause for an emergency appointment.
The same hair I constantly straightened because I knew he preferred it that way.
And unfortunately, somewhere along the way I must have taught myself that curly hair meant I hadn’t tried hard enough to look presentable. Or that I couldn’t go anywhere as I was.
That what I looked like naturally wasn’t good enough.
But I’ve never felt prettier or more like myself than I have these last few days while running around up in the mountains with my hair flying wild and free.
And I think it has a lot to do with me learning to love myself a little better and caring a lot less about what my father thinks of me.
“I’ve been far too lenient with you. I knew that brother of yours would poison you against me, but now you’re messing with Damien and his campaign, and this act of defiance needs to be dropped. Immediately.”
To my horror, a tear slips free and slowly trails down my cheek.
My father freezes, shoulders tensing as his eyes zero in on the lone tear. He takes a step forward, instantly sending me one step back.
Raising his hands, he speaks to me in a tone you would reserve for a wounded animal you’ve stumbled upon in the woods.
“Daisy, dear, I apologize for upsetting you. I think it’s safe to say we’re all a bit out of sorts, hmm?
Please forgive me. Join me for dinner this week, and we can talk about everything he told you.
I really want to get to the bottom of this massive miscommunication.
And you’re right. If Damien did say and mean all of those deplorable things, then it is without question that my loyalty and love lie with you, my sweet daughter. ” He places a cold hand on my cheek.
I don’t move away from his touch immediately, even though it feels like I should.
Instead, a loud knock on my door has me stepping away. “Are you guys banging in there? Our men will be pissed if we see Coach Weston’s di—” The door swings open to reveal a giggling Isabella with Luisa hot on her heels.
A flash of shock passes over my father’s face as they step into my office.
Their mischievous smiles drop at the sight of him, then at whatever expression must be marring my face. “Daisy, are you okay?” Isa asks as she pulls me to her side, away from my father.
“How the fuck did you get access to this area, George?” Luisa sneers, since she has her own history with my father.
“Ah, if it isn’t my lovely daughter-in-law. Crushed that I wasn’t invited to your second wedding, by the way. Guess I can always hold out for the third one.”
I don’t know why my father insists on taunting Nick and Luisa.
I’ve always wondered why he couldn’t put whatever feelings he has aside for the greater good of the family. It’s what I’ve always done so I could continue having relationships with both men.
But I guess since I’ve always been the one sacrificing on the sidelines, he and his ego have gone unchecked for far too long.
But that ends now.
“Father, I think it best you leave now,” I say calmly as he and Luisa stare each other down.
His head turns my way, and he nods. “I was thinking the same thing. But do me a favor before I leave and unblock me so I can at the very least take my daughter out to dinner and resolve this mess. One dinner, that’s all I ask.
After that, I promise you everything will be in its rightful place and we can finally move on from this disaster. ”
“You’ll be communicating through our attorneys if you dare to set foot in this stadium again. After the last time you were here, my husband made it abundantly clear that you are not welcome.”
My father keeps his pleading eyes on me, ignoring Luisa. “One dinner. At the very least give me the opportunity to clear up any misunderstandings. I’ve only heard Damien’s side of things. I’m sorry for lashing out during a time of pure and utter confusion. Allow me to make amends.”
I feel the girls’ eyes on me widen as I offer a weak smile. “One dinner.”
He nods as he runs a hand down his tie. “This week. I’ll set it up.” He squeezes my shoulder before sidestepping the ladies and walking out of my office.
I feel at war with my emotions as I lean against the closed door and slide down until my ass hits the floor.
Luisa and Isa each take a seat next to me, letting me settle in the silence before having to answer any of their questions.
I feel so vulnerable after that interaction. I’m usually the one trying to cheer others up while covertly hiding the skeletons in my own closet. And having my biggest one waltz out of here as if he were a business associate instead of a doting dad hurts.
“We don’t have to talk about it. If you want to order all the sweets from the cafeteria, I can have them up here in the next five minutes,” Luisa offers.
“Or we can talk about you and Luke,” Isa tries instead.
“Isa,” Luisa warns.
“What? We don’t have to talk about the sex she’s having with Coach Weston. Although I’m sure it was hot as hell, given how you look like you’ve had your back broken and put back together again.”
I slap a hand over my forehead as an incredulous laugh escapes from deep in my chest.
“Maybe Daisy can tell us about life in the mountains. You know, about the landscapes and whatnot. That’s what I was getting at,” Isabella says innocently.
“Uh-huh. Sure you were.” Luisa smirks.
I lean my head against the door, a small smile playing on my lips. “Want to hear about the time I found Luke in the backyard chopping wood while shirtless?”
By their ear-piercing screeches, I think that sounds like a resounding yes to me.