Chapter twenty
Devyn
When I saw my daddy, I thought I was dreaming.
I hadn’t seen my dad in a long time and even though I was mad at him when he shipped me off, the truth was that I missed him.
I wish I were still back home, but I had time to think since I’ve been in Zurich, and I understand better why he felt the need to send me away.
The crazy thing about that was my daddy sent me here so I wouldn’t be around Dylan and his changing street lifestyle, but my feelings for him were still alive.
I woke up smiling because for the first time in months, my daddy was in the same country as me. Not on the phone. Not on FaceTime. Not through text messages. He was actually here in Switzerland.
The realization still felt unreal.
I took me a minute to recognize where I was because I wasn’t in my dorm room.
I had almost forgot that I had spent the night in my daddy’s hotel suite.
I quickly got dressed and checked my phone.
No messages from Sahara, which surprised me a little.
I mean she already knew I was with my daddy, so I knew she probably wasn’t worried.
I grabbed my room key and headed downstairs. My father was already sitting in the dining area drinking coffee when I found him.
The second he looked up, he smiled. “There’s my baby girl.”
I smiled back. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
I kissed his cheek and then sat down across from him. For a few seconds we just looked at each other then I laughed.
“What?” my dad asked.
“You keep staring at me,” I replied.
He pointed his coffee cup at me. “Because every time I see you, you just look older.”
I rolled my eyes. “Daddy.”
“I’m serious,” he said with a smile.
I laughed again. “You’ve only been here one day.”
“And somehow you still look older than yesterday.”
I shook my head. “You are ridiculous.” The smile never left his face and honestly, I didn’t mind. “Can I ask you something Daddy?”
“Anything.”
“Dylan still works for you right?”
“Yeah.”
“How is he?”
“Well, I don’t spend much time with him, but from what I’ve seen, he’s doing good,” he replied. “But Devyn…”
“I know. I know,” I interrupted him. “I know you sent me here because you thought I was too involved with Dylan.”
“You were,” he stated.
“But sending me here doesn’t stop me from caring for him.”
“I know that sweetheart. I sent you here because I wanted more for you than what you could get from ATL. I saw what was happening between you and Dylan and had to step in before you were too deeply involved.”
“I get that, but I still care a lot about him,” I said.
“It’s okay. Eventually, you will come to realize I did what I felt was right for you,” he said.
After breakfast I stood up and grabbed his hand.
“Come on.”
He smirked and asked, “Come on where?”
“You’re asking too many questions,” I said.
His eyebrows rose. “Well, that sounds familiar,” he teased.
“Let’s go.”
A short while later we were on a train headed toward Uetliberg Mountain… one of my favorite places.
I spent most of the ride talking and showing him things, pointing out landmarks and explaining random facts I had learned. My daddy mostly listened while occasionally asking questions.
But mostly he just watched me. It was kind of weird.
“What?” I asked.
“What you mean?” he asked.
“You keep looking at me.”
A small smile tugged at his lips. “I’m listening to you sweetheart.”
“You can listen without staring,” I teased.
“No, I can’t,” he said. “Do you know how long it’s been since we last saw each other? I missed you and you’ve changed so much.”
I rolled my eyes dramatically. “I missed you too Daddy.”
The train ride ended with us standing near one of the overlooks. The view was beautiful… mountains, trees, and the city below us. Everything looked like a postcard.
My father stood beside me for several moments. Then quietly said, “Okay.”
“What?”
“I get it.”
I laughed because I had no idea what he was talking about. “You get what Daddy?” I asked.
“Why you keep coming up here.”
I smiled. “Told you,” I said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“It sure is.”
Afterward we spent most of the afternoon exploring other parts of Zurich. We went shopping and my daddy’s bank card didn’t stand a chance.
“Daddy.”
“What?” he asked with a smirk.
“I don’t need all this.”
He looked down at the shopping bags then back at me. “You right.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
“I’m buying it anyway.”
I groaned and he laughed, causing me to laugh too. Some things never changed. By the time we finished, my father had bought me clothes, shoes, books, a new Gucci bag, and enough stuff to fill half of my dorm room.
He really outdid himself, but I totally understood why. He was trying to make up for not seeing me the past few months. And I loved him for it.
Later that afternoon, I took him somewhere special… the piano room. My stomach immediately tightened when we stepped inside and, of course, my father noticed.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound okay.”
I sighed. “There’s something I want to show you,” I said.
His expression softened. “Okay.”
I walked towards the piano and sat down. Suddenly, I was nervous, which was stupid because I had performed in front of people before. But this was different.
This was my dad and I wanted him to be impressed. I wanted him to see how hard I had worked to perfect my craft. I wanted him to see that I wasn’t wasting my time here.
I took a deep breath then started playing. The room filled with music. At first, I focused on the keys, the rhythm, the timing and the notes. Then gradually I relaxed as my fingers moved naturally and confidently.
The same piece that had once felt impossible now felt easy, comfortable and familiar. When I finally finished, he sat there quietly. I looked up and my father was still sitting there staring at me.
“Daddy?” He didn’t say anything. Just sat there staring, which caused my stomach to drop. “Was it that bad?”
That snapped him out of whatever trance he was in. “What?” Daddy asked.
“The song.”
A smile slowly spread across his face. “No,” he replied with a smile.
I exhaled. “Good.”
His smile widened. “You played really well sweetheart,” he said.
I laughed. “You really liked it?” I asked.
“I sure did.”
My father stood and walked over then pulled me into a hug. “I’m proud of you.”
The words hit me harder than I expected because no matter how old I got or where I lived or how much I argued with him, I still wanted my daddy to be proud of me. I wrapped my arms around him.
“Thanks.”
He kissed the top of my head. And for a moment I felt like a little girl again.
Later that evening we stopped for ice cream before heading back to campus. The weather was nice. The city was beautiful. And for the first time in months, everything felt easy. We sat on a bench watching people pass by.
Neither of us spoke for a while. Then I broke the silence.
“I still wish you hadn’t sent me here,” I admitted.
The words came out quietly and honestly, but I wasn’t angry anymore.
My father stared ahead. “I know.”
I looked at him and just waited for an argument or a speech or some sort of defense. Instead, he simply nodded.
“I know.”
The simplicity of the response surprised me. “I was really mad at you.”
“I know that too,” he said.
I looked down at my ice cream then smiled slightly. “I know you knew.”
A laugh escaped him… a real laugh. The kind I hadn’t heard in a while.
“I missed you.”
The confession slipped out before I could stop it. His expression immediately softened.
“I missed you too, baby.”
For several seconds neither of us spoke. Then I looked around admiring the lights of the city. I looked at the mountains and the life I had built here. And for the first time, I understood something.
I could miss home and still be happy here.
Those things didn’t have to cancel each other out. My father followed my gaze.
“You really like it here?” he asked. “Are you really happy?”
I thought about Sahara and the train rides, the piano lessons, the horses, the friends I had made and the experiences I had.
Then I smiled. “Yeah.”
His shoulders relaxed almost immediately. Like he had been carrying a weight he didn’t realize was there. And maybe he had.
“I miss Atlanta though,” I admitted.
He laughed. “I would’ve been worried that something was wrong with you if you didn’t.”
I smiled then my phone buzzed. My father’s eyes immediately narrowed. I busted out laughing.
“What?” I asked.
“Who is it?”
I laughed harder. “Nobody.”
“Is it Devyn?”
His voice carried a warning as I looked down at the screen. A smile instantly appeared before I looked back at him.
“Yeah, it’s Dylan.”
My father closed his eyes like he was deep in thought. And for the first time all day, I started laughing until my stomach hurt.