Chapter 44 #2
“But if I had you in my life back then, I know in my heart, I would have made you a priority.” Because I’m not my father. “We can’t change the past, though. And it looks like your dad did one hell of a job raising you.”
She smiled, another tear escaping. “But blood appears to run thicker.” Her attention lifted to his face. “Maybe I’m more like you.”
Now he was going to cry in one bloody second, but he did his best to maintain his composure. To stay strong. “I don’t know where you got your computer smarts from. I’m good, but I’m much better at shooting.”
Shit, he still had to tell her he was a professional sniper. She didn’t need to know his kill count, but . . .
“Oh,” she began, her smile stretching, “you should see me with a gun. Not so bad myself.”
He clutched his chest at her words. She really was his daughter, wasn’t she? “I could take you to the range back in the States.”
“I’d like that.”
“And maybe we could go grab ice cream?” He remembered she liked his favorite place in London as well. “Or pizza? Whatever you’d like to do.”
“We can bring Natasha along with us. I don’t want to leave her with Mum. That’d be just plain evil.”
He laughed. “Natasha’s pretty tough. She can handle herself.”
Gwen stood, and he rose as well, his legs a little shaky. “You know, I might have taken a peek into your old service file.”
He arched a brow. “My file?”
“Just a quick look.” She did that humble sort of innocent shrug again. “Looks like you’re quite the hero.”
“I wouldn’t call myself that.”
“And what would you call yourself?”
Now? Now I’m a dad. He’d only ever been a Teamguy, and Echo One. But now he was a father. He was a man in love with a beautiful and talented CIA officer. He had a lot more than he’d ever believed he could have. More than he knew he wanted.
“Hm. Looks like you’re humble,” she said when he didn’t answer. “I like that.” She started walking. “I’m thinking I’d like to do the kind of work you do when I’m a bit older.”
He froze at her words. “Are you serious?”
She popped up one shoulder and grinned. “We’ll see.”
“So,” he said as they began walking again, and his heart damn near exploded in his chest when she reached for his hand, “will you, um, tell me more about you?”
“Like what?”
“You know”—he glanced at her and smiled—“everything.”
Wyatt had second-guessed his decision to go to his parents’ house a dozen times on his way there.
This wasn’t even the home he grew up in.
His parents had finally downsized last year.
Of course, their definition of downsizing still meant buying a home in the ballpark of ten million pounds.
But maybe he made the right move in confronting his parents.
Because after a thirty-minute, one-way conversation where Wyatt had vented about anything and everything that had ever crossed his mind, he actually did feel a little better.
His father removed his glasses and set them aside before standing from the chair. “You’re just like my mother, aren’t you?” His words weren’t cutting or defensive, the typical way he spoke to him over the years. It was also as if his statement was a declaration of surrender.
His dad’s gray eyes lowered to the floor, and his hands went into the pockets of his brown tweed jacket.
“Your grandmother was like you. Carefree. Free spirit. She hated being tied down. Hated being a lady, and as much as she loved my father, she regretted the life she was forced to lead because of it.” His tone was crisp.
Decisive. Accepting. Or maybe forgiving, but for what, Wyatt wasn’t so sure.
“Pop was always afraid she’d leave him. Lived his life worrying about it. ”
“But she didn’t.” Wyatt didn’t know where his father was going with this story, but he’d always been closest to his grandmother.
She’d said they were kindred spirits, and he supposed there was a lot of truth to that because they were very similar in nature.
Only, he’d left, when she hadn’t. “What are you trying to say?”
“I saw how much you were like her when you were growing up.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and lifted his normally cold eyes up.
Today, they were lighter, less gunmetal and gloom.
“I think I spent most of your young life worrying that you’d leave me the way Pop always worried she’d leave him. Because I saw so much of her in you.”
Wyatt turned away from his dad, processing his admission. The truth of his words cut through him. It was as if his father had been wearing a mask for years and had finally taken it off.
After Wyatt’s divorce with Clara, he’d spent his time dedicated to work, believing he could never love.
He pushed everyone away to prevent any type of pain.
He never thought he’d be able to relate to his father, but maybe he could.
Maybe he was more like him than he thought.
Taking preventative measures to safeguard his heart like his dad had done with him.
Had his father cared so much he’d accidentally built a wall between them? A strange sensation, a feeling of calm, had his skin tingling and the tense muscles in his body relaxing.
“I put distance between us, expecting you to hurt us by leaving, and maybe I was the one who actually pushed you away.” His father confirmed his theory.
“I’m sorry. The way I’ve treated you over the years was wrong.
And to hell with what people think, you’re my son.
Even if you’re a Pierson now. Ink and all. ”
Wyatt slowly faced him, his throat thickening at the break in his dad’s voice. Chills forming, a rare sensation for him. He wasn’t sure what had caused the change of heart, but he’d take it.
“And I was worried you’d hurt Gwen, too. You’d find out she was your daughter, and you’d leave her.” Wyatt grimaced at his mum’s words. “But I was wrong, wasn’t I? Because you’re here, and you brought someone you care about with you. You found love.”
“You planning on marrying her?” He followed his father’s hand as he pulled a box out of his pocket. “If you want to ask her, well, you can do it with this ring if you’d like.”
Wyatt took the small leather box from his father, feeling like he was moving in slow motion. This entire day was some kind of dream.
“It was your grandmother’s ring,” his dad continued. “She wanted you to have it if you ever found someone who, uh, didn’t make you feel so tied down. Her words.”
Wyatt stared at the diamond, which was surrounded by pale green emeralds, the same color as Natasha’s eyes.
“Thank you.” He blinked back the tears that tried to break free and tucked the box into his coat pocket. He hadn’t even taken off his jacket when he and Natasha had arrived, assuming it’d be a quick visit. “And yes, I plan on asking her. I also plan on having more children.”
His mum’s face lit up at the mention of “heirs” as she’d call them.
With the ring in his pocket, there was only one thing on his mind now, though. And he was too impatient to wait. He knew what he wanted and it was a life with Natasha.
“Can you excuse me?” he sputtered, then hurried out of the room without giving his parents a chance to say more. “Natasha,” he called out in search of her.
She was sitting at the breakfast bar in the mammoth-sized kitchen. “Are we fleeing?” she asked around a bite of a Danish.
“Just out to the back.” He grabbed her jacket since she’d removed hers, and they quickly made their way outside.
“This place is stunning, by the way.” She zipped up her coat, her eyes moving to the gardens on the back property. So many flowers. How had he never noticed all the flowers everywhere he went before? “And you really grew up in a house five times the size of this one?”
They approached the edge of the terrace, the London skyline in view.
His mum had given them a grand tour of the place when they’d arrived, boasting that President Reagan once stayed in the house during his presidency.
Natasha had smiled and nodded as if impressed, even though he knew she wasn’t materialistic or into such details, but she’d been polite and made a show of being spellbound for his mother.
“Yeah, but, um.” He faced her and took her hand, too anxious to do or say more than what he had planned.
“What is it?” Her smile was like a promise of love and hope, a reminder there was good in the world.
“This thing between us, it’s crazy. I mean, we met at our exes’ wedding eight years ago, and back then, I never would have imagined I’d be standing here in London with you, let alone be the father of an almost twenty-one-year-old.”
The first few drops of rain came slowly, and she ignored them. The water hit her cheeks. Her lashes. Her lips. She simply stared at him as if mesmerized, and he felt the same.
“Should we go in?” he asked, but she shook her head.
“I guess it’s sort of perfect to be standing out here in the rain.
” His voice was low but shaky. Nerves and excitement coiling inside of him.
“My grandmother told me to find someone who makes me feel like sunshine after a rainy day.” He looked up at the sky as the heavens opened up on them, the rain crashing harder, and she chuckled, not giving a damn.
“So, here we are in the rain, but you’re the sunshine.
You’re my light.” He wasn’t a romantic, but damn this woman had him all out of bloody sorts in the best possible way.
He lowered to one knee, bending the other leg back as he let go of her right hand so he could reach into his pocket. She kept her eyes on him, and if there were tears there, he couldn’t tell since the rain continued to pour down her face.
“This was my grandmother’s ring, and I was hoping you’d wear it.
” He let go of her left hand to remove the diamond from the box, then held it above her ring finger.
“What do you say? Would you spend the rest of your life with me?” Tears mixed with the water on his own face as it rained. “Will you marry me?”
Her lower lip quivered, and she nodded. “Yes,” she cried.
He slid the ring on, and she urged him to stand, then flung her arms over his shoulders. He clutched her tight to his body before pulling back for a kiss.
Standing outside on a cold and wet day in the city in which he was born . . . he’d never felt so bloody happy.