Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
STORM
I try not to beat myself up for how the morning is going.
Tempest, quite frankly, hates everything.
I tell myself not to take it personally, and the second she gives me a rare smile, I forget how hard she’s making me work to gain her trust. But when she accused me of kidnapping her in front of the staff at the Contemporary Museum of Art, I knew I had to move us along to the next activity.
Except the rest of the day doesn’t go much better. It started raining torrentially, putting the kibosh on the rest of my plans—lunch at the botanical garden and a helicopter ride around the city.
Which is why Tempest and I find ourselves back at the house only two hours after leaving.
“I, uh, ordered pizza,” I say as soon as I park the SUV in front of the door. She huffs from her booster in the backseat.
“What kind did you get?” she grumbles.
“Pepperoni,” I reply brightly, hoping that I can change her attitude simply by not getting one with her in return.
“Ugh,” she snaps. “I hate pepperoni. Why don’t you know that?”
I blink a few times, knowing I’m not tripping. I watched her eat three slices of pepperoni pizza last week.
“Since when?”
“Since forever ,” she replies. “Duh!”
I bite my lip to hold in my knee-jerk instinct to correct her insubordination.
“Let’s go inside and figure it out,” I say, exiting the car. It takes two minutes for me to help her out of the vehicle, and I stop her in the foyer when she starts to jet off.
“Wait, Tems. Aren’t you hungry?” I ask.
Poking out her bottom lip, she says, “No,” but the acoustics in the foyer amplify her growling stomach.
“Hmm, I don’t know, Tems. You seem pretty hungry to me,” I say brightly. “What kind of pizza would you like?”
She ignores me, folding her arms and tapping her foot.
“Tempest?”
“I don’t want any pizza!” she shouts. “Why would you think I want stupid pizza ?”
“Tempest!”
She freezes, her eyes wide, and tears land on her eyelashes.
“I hate you!” she screeches before sprinting off.
Way to go, Sandoval.
I let her run away, hanging my head as I stand there like an idiot with my hands on my hips.
Tempest’s rage is understandable. With how damn smart she is, it’s easy to forget that she’s only seven and dealing with some major life changes.
Changes that would make a full-grown adult more than testy.
So I don’t expect her to have full mastery of her emotions, and I know, even if she doesn’t have the language for it, she wants to punish me.
She probably wants to punish me for not being around; she probably wants to punish me for coming back.
Whatever she feels is valid.
All that said, today is not going well, and if I can’t find a way forward with Tempest, I know Shae will put the brakes on us adding more change to the twins’ lives, such as starting a public romantic relationship with me.
Shae will put Tempest first, in front of her own happiness, and I can’t blame her for that.
At the end of the day, I’m the adult here. It’s my job to mend the relationship, not Tempest’s.
Sack up, Sandoval.
The first place I look is her bedroom, and when I don’t find her there, I head to the playroom. Right when I start to panic, I head down the hall, crossing the main space to get to Shae’s room, and stop short when I see a door open that’s always closed.
My father’s office.
I like to pretend it isn’t there, even though it’s hard to do with the room being so close to the entrance of the house. Now, seeing the door ajar and the thick, dusty tarps over the furniture, I have…almost an out-of-body experience.
I’m cold, shaken by this blatant reminder of my parents, of the last time I’d been in this room with my father and the events that happened afterward. I’d desensitized myself to the act of simply existing in this home, but this room, just like the art barn, is too close. Too… them.
Putting a hand on the handle, I peer into the room, my gaze skimming over the surfaces. The combination of the rain outside and the thick curtains covering the windows casts the room into shadows.
“Tems?” I call out, hoping she’s not in here, that the door being open is a random event. But then, I hear a sniffle, and I know I’m going to have to face the ghosts I try to pretend don’t exist.
I take one step, then another, stopping to stare at the spot where my father broke the picture frames holding images of our family moments before he died. It’s like the past and present overlay each other, and I find my chest getting tight.
Another small sniffle comes from the direction of my dad’s massive oak desk, and I know she’s hiding under there.
My eyes slide closed, and I blow out a breath in the stale room. What the hell am I supposed to say?
Just speak from your heart.
My eyes snap open at the thought…and the voice that delivers it.
Like a signal from the afterlife, my mother’s perfume floats into the room, causing me to stand up straighter and slow my pulse.
It’s going to be okay.
It’s going to be okay.
In three steps, I’m on the other side of the desk, and Tempest’s bare toes peek from her hiding place in the foot space where Dad’s rolling chair used to reside.
She pulls them closer to her scrunched body, and I lower to the floor, sitting with my arms resting on my knees, silent.
And we stay there, just breathing and feeling, for more than ten minutes before I say something.
“Tempest, I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t make a noise, and I can only see the silhouette of her tiny body in the dark space, which tightens at my words.
“And I’m not just sorry for getting frustrated back there. I’m sorry for everything.” I drop my head back against a desk drawer, watching the dust bunnies float in the air.
“You’re so smart, Tems, and I know you see things us grownups think you can’t understand, but I know you can.” I look down at her shadow. “You’re such a strong girl, but I want you to know, it’s okay to feel things, too.”
I let those words land and give her space to process them.
“I’m so sorry I haven’t been here until now, Tems. I won’t make excuses because you’ve heard them all, and like I said, you’re a smart kid. A lot smarter than I am, actually. You get that from your mom, you know.”
The silence feels different somehow, like I can tell she’s listening.
“It may take a million times for you to hear this and believe it, but I love you, Tempest. You’re my daughter , and you and your brother are the best gifts I could have ever asked for.”
“You don’t even know me. You’re a stranger,” she whispers, her voice watery and…hurt. I rub at my chest.
“You’re right. I am a stranger to you—a new person in your life—and I loved you from the second I knew about you. That feeling deepened when I saw you in person. And guess what?”
Tempest pauses for a second before saying, “What?”
“There’s nothing you could ever do or say that would make me stop loving you.”
Just then, the sun breaks through the clouds, casting the room in warmth. But the glow doesn’t last, fading after a few heartbeats.
“What if I never like you?” she murmurs, and her toes reappear at the edge of the darkness.
“That’s okay,” I reply.
Tempest sucks in a breath, scooting closer to me.
“What if I say I wish you never came back?”
I pause, and even though my heart aches, I say, “I’d still love you.”
“What if I cry a lot and I’m annoying and you don’t like me?”
“I couldn’t ever not like you. I’ll love you forever, Tems. So you can cry and tell me you hate pepperoni pizza when I know you love it, or you roll your eyes and use your Gen Alpha brainrot speak, and I’ll still love you.”
“And you won’t ever leave?”
This is the question that breaks me, has me sucking in a breath and holding myself back from reaching out to her.
“I won’t ever leave you, Tempest. The only way I won’t be around is if it’s my time to be with the ancestors, and even then, I’ll always be with you. Because love never dies.”
That statement lands, and I wipe my wet eyes. As I tell her about how my love for her will transcend time and space, I feel my own mother’s love flashing in the brief glimpses of the sun on this rainy day.
We breathe more, just allow ourselves to exist together, and Tempest is the one to break the tension this time. Inch by inch, she moves out of the foot space, and after half a minute, I view her tearstained face in full.
The confident, loud little girl she shows to the world is set aside, and in her place is my sensitive, feeling daughter.
Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she bites her lip and looks down at her lap.
“You can say anything to me, Tempest, at any time. I’m not going to be perfect, and I’m gonna get some things wrong, but I promise, I’ll try to be the best father to you that I can be. And while I can’t change the past, I want to make every day with you better than the last.”
Tempest seems to think about that for a long time before nodding somberly. Not a declaration of love or a truce, but a positive step in the right direction, nonetheless.
I’ll take it.
“So…how about that pizza? I can get a new one, if you want,” I ask, giving my daughter a sideways grin.
Tempest looks down, bashful, before saying, “Actually…pepperoni is fine.”
I don’t tease her about this development. Instead, I tilt my chin down and say, “Sounds good.”
We wait for a moment longer, then I stand, stretching out my limbs.
“Ready to go?” I ask, clapping my hands once and pasting on a smile. There’s still more day to experience with Tempest, and I know, with time, we’ll get where we’re meant to be.
Tempest smiles tentatively and, with shy slowness, reaches out toward me.
Once she stands at my side in the forgotten room full of memories, I try not to cry like a baby when she wraps her tiny arms around me for a long hug.