Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
I’m not easily intimidated. I face off with some of the NFL’s finest—and toughest—players on a weekly basis. I’ve been loved instantly by almost all of my friends’ parents growing up and Sydney’s parents. There was only one parent who didn’t like me, but he turned out to be a racist asshole, so it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with my skin color.
I don’t get racist vibes from Mere’s dad, but I’m definitely feeling how protective he is of her. As a dad, I get it. I would be the same way with any guy Kaylee brought home—which will never happen because she’s never dating, but in theory, I’d be just like Meredith’s dad.
I follow him into the garage where he turns on the overhead light that illuminates a beautiful red Corvette. He rubs the side of it affectionately and chuckles. “I feel like I’ve been working on this thing for as long as Meredith’s been alive. But restorations like these require care, and sometimes it takes more time than you expect.”
“I can imagine. It’s a beautiful car,” I tell him. Right about now, I wish I knew more about cars so I could ask him questions about it.
He leans against the passenger side and crosses his arms. “As much as I love this car and have put endless hours and time into it, it’s nothing compared to how much I love my daughter.”
“I wouldn’t expect any less.”
He narrows his eyes thoughtfully. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t, having a daughter of your own. So, you understand why I have my concerns about her getting involved with you?”
“Because I’m a football player?”
“Because you still love your wife.”
His words land like I just got tackled. Even though I knew he would likely bring it up, for some reason I didn’t expect him to just come out and say it so directly. In my experience, most people talk around death; rarely do they face it head-on.
I swallow thickly. “I do still love Sydney. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about Meredith.”
His gaze is stern, focused, like he’s analyzing every word out of my mouth, and it makes sweat break out on the back of my neck. “ Caring about someone isn’t the same as loving them. I know my daughter, and I can see clearly that her heart is already involved. If you can’t love her the way she deserves, then I’m going to ask—father to father—that you let her go. Let her find a man who will love her so hard, she’ll never question his feelings for her, or if he still has feelings for someone else,” he adds on, his words heavy with meaning.
My heart sinks to my stomach. I can’t tell him I love her—because even if I see a future with her, love is not a word I’ve allowed myself to associate with anyone besides Sydney or Kaylee—but I can’t let her go either. Because even if I don’t love her now, I want to. I want a future with her, and I’d like to believe I can get there.
If I can learn how to let go of Sydney’s hold first.
“Don’t break my daughter’s heart, Romel. Because there’s nothing harder on a father than watching his daughter suffer.”
“I don’t want her to suffer,” I admit, my voice hoarse.
“No, I don’t think you do. Hopefully you can figure it out before it’s too late.”
His words are ominous, but I don’t get another chance to respond because he pushes off the car and walks toward me. He pats me on the back and gives me a meaningful look like he hopes we understand each other.
All I understand is that he thinks I’m going to break Meredith’s heart, and I can’t reassure him that I won’t.