Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kincaid
My actual father sat across from me at a table.
This entire situation was both odd and oddly comfortable.
My mom had come with me at the start, and they’d hugged—which was also odd.
She had just gone out to pick up a pizza for us for lunch.
He’d said that was one of the few things he still had an appetite for.
His hair was thin and his eyes were tired.
There was no other way to describe his face except haggard and weathered.
It was clear the man had lived a life. But he’d been in the Air Force for most of his life and spent much of that career deployed overseas.
We’d gotten through, as he put it, the “speed-dating summary” of his life.
“I’m really grateful you came to meet me.” His voice was low and a little worn.
“Yeah.” I paused, taking measure of how I felt inside my body. “I’m glad I came too. Which, to be honest, surprises me.”
He tilted his head to the side. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“No?”
“I wasn’t there when you were growing up, and I regret it. Your mom raised an amazing man.”
“She’s the best,” I said, my chest tightening with emotion.
“She seems pretty awesome.”
I chuckled. “Well, you dated her once upon a time.”
He nodded. “I did. I don’t know what you were like when you were twenty-four, but even though I was technically an adult, I was, to put it lightly, emotionally immature.
Of course, I didn’t know it at the time.
I liked your mom a lot. She was cute and smart and funny.
But I was too young to know what I needed to grab ahold of at that time.
I’d like to think, if I’d found out about her being pregnant before I was transferred, that I would have handled it differently.
But I don’t know. I was young and carefree.
I’ve had to accept my mistakes, and it kind of sucks. ”
His directness elicited a startled laugh from me. “Is that so?”
“Yeah.” His chin bobbed. “Totally sucks. There are some things you can do over in life, but there are some things you can’t.
Your mom has shown me plenty of pictures.
Hell, last week, she sent me online folders of photos labeled for every year of your life.
” He shook his head, his eyes bright with a sheen.
“I wish I’d been there. So, I wouldn’t give you the advice to live your life the way I chose to live mine.
By the way, I never got married and never had any other kids. ”
I was quiet and still, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. “I wondered, so thanks for letting me know.” Pausing, I gathered myself. “I’m glad you took my mom’s call,” I finally added.
“I’m more glad than I can say,” he said quietly.
Time rolled along, and we shifted from the heavier topics to more casual conversation, which was a relief.
If anything, because I appreciated that we both felt relaxed enough to talk casually.
By the time my mom and I left to return to the hotel, I felt lighter inside.
So many questions had been answered. More than anything, I felt like I finally knew the man my father was. That was a gift I would cherish.
The following morning, we had breakfast together. When we flew home, all I could think about was Tori. I needed to tell her how I felt. I needed not to let what we had slip away. No matter what happened with us, I was at least going to put my feelings out there so she knew.