✧･Chapter 38 She Loves You
Claire is the first one to make her way over to me.
I feel her before I even look at her, the familiar warmth of her presence settling behind my chair as she leans down, close enough that her hair brushes lightly against my cheek.
For a second, I almost reach for her out of instinct, desperate for something familiar to hold onto, but my eyes remain fixed across the restaurant.
On my father, and he hasn't looked away from me once. His expression is impossible to read from this distance, but I can see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders are held a little too stiffly, like he's just as unsure of what he's supposed to do as I am.
Claire's lips come close to my ear. "You should go talk to him."
I take a slow breath, but it doesn't seem to help. My chest still feels tight, my fingers curling against my lap as I stare at the man I never expected to see standing here tonight.
"I-" The word catches in my throat.
I finally turn my head, looking up at Claire. Her expression is soft, but there's something underneath it. Something nervous, like she's been thinking about this moment for longer than I have.
"Why is he here?" I ask, my voice cracking slightly despite my attempt to keep it steady.
Claire doesn't look away. "I asked him to come."
My eyebrows pull together. "You... asked him?"
She nods and her hand settles gently on my shoulder, her fingers giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. Somehow, that tiny touch makes everything feel a little less impossible.
"We'll talk about it," she whispers. "I'll tell you everything later, I promise. But right now, I think you should go talk to him first."
My eyes flick back toward my father.
He is still watching me and I swallow hard. "I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to know yet." Claire's voice is quiet, almost soothing. She gives my shoulder another gentle squeeze before stepping around the chair so I can see her properly.
"Just go over there," she says. "You don't have to figure out the rest of it right now."
I look at her for another moment, searching her face for some indication that this is a mistake, but there isn't one. There's only that same quiet certainty I've come to recognize in her.
She believes this is what I need, and somehow, despite how terrified I am, I trust her.
I slowly push my chair back and stand, my hands trembling slightly at my sides.
For a moment, I just stare at him from across the restaurant, trying to convince myself that this is actually happening.
That my father is really standing here, in a place filled with the people I love, on my birthday, after everything that happened between us only weeks ago.
Then I take a step, and then another.
I don't know what I'm expecting to happen when I reach him.
I don't know if I'm going to be angry, if I'm going to cry, or if I'm going to turn around and walk straight back to the table.
The closer I get, the more nervous he seems to become.
His shoulders tense, his hands disappear deeper into his pockets, and I can see the uncertainty written all over his face.
When I'm finally standing in front of him, I stop and for a few seconds, neither of us says anything.
I look into his eyes, the same eyes I grew up looking into, and suddenly I feel like a little girl again. I remember sitting beside him when I was younger, listening to him tell me stories, climbing into his lap when I was scared, believing there was nothing in the world my father couldn't fix.
Then I remember how those same eyes looked at me a few weeks ago. The disappointment, the confusion, the way his face changed when I told him that I was in love with Claire. I remember how small I felt standing there, waiting for him to tell me that he still loved me even if he didn't understand me.
I swallow against the ache in my throat.
"Dad?" I whisper.
The word barely makes it past my lips. His expression crumples for just a second before he gives me the saddest smile I've ever seen. He slowly pulls his hands from his pockets, hesitates like he's giving me one last chance to stop him, and then reaches for me.
His arms wrap around me, and whatever strength I thought I had left disappears.
A soft, broken sound escapes me before I can stop it, and I bury my face into the crook of his neck, my arms wrapping tightly around him as he holds me against his chest.
I don't care that we're in a restaurant anymore.
I don't care about the people watching or the makeup I spent entirely too long doing.
I just hold my dad, because I'm still hurt.
God, I'm still so hurt.
But he's still my dad, and some part of me has been waiting for him to hold me like this since the moment everything fell apart.
"Happy birthday, my little girl," he whispers against my hair.
My eyes squeeze shut and I cry quietly into his shoulder, gripping the back of his shirt like if I let go too soon, this moment will disappear.
For a few seconds, I let myself forget everything else. The argument, the disappointment, and the weeks of wondering whether I had lost my father.
I let myself just be his little girl again.
We stay like that for longer than we probably should, but neither of us seems willing to be the first one to let go. Eventually, I pull back, wiping quickly beneath my eyes before the tears can ruin the makeup I somehow managed to keep together.
I give him a shaky little laugh. "Sorry."
He shakes his head immediately. "Don't apologize."
I nod, taking a breath that doesn't quite help fully. Then the question I've been holding onto since the moment I saw him comes back.
"Why... why are you here?"
His smile fades slightly, and he looks down for a moment before taking a slow breath.
"Well," he begins, "Claire showed up at the house."
My eyebrows pull together and I glance over my shoulder toward Claire.
She's still standing near the table, watching us quietly. Her hands are tucked into the pockets of her pants, and even from here I can see how tense she is. She's giving us space, but she's watching closely enough that I know she hasn't taken her eyes off me.
I turn back to my father. "She showed up at your house?"
He nods. "A few hours ago."
I stare at him. "Hours ago?"
"Yeah." He lets out a breath, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Your mom answered the door."
My stomach sinks, because that alone tells me enough.
"That didn't go very well," he continues quietly. "I heard her yelling before I even got to the front door. By the time I got there, she was screaming at Claire."
My eyes immediately flick back toward Claire and she doesn't look away.
"She stayed," my father says, bringing my attention back to him.
"Even with your mother yelling at her, she stayed. She didn't yell back. She didn't leave. She just stood there and let your mother say whatever she needed to say until I finally got her to calm down enough to let Claire explain why she was there."
I don't know what to say and I can feel my throat tightening again.
"What did she say?"
He gives me a small, almost embarrassed smile. "A lot."
Despite myself, a tiny laugh escapes me. "Yeah... That sounds like Claire."
He smiles too, but it disappears quickly. "She talked about you."
My smile fades.
"She told me how much you've been hurting. How much you've missed us, even though you wouldn't talk about it. She told me a lot of things I didn't know."
He pauses, looking down at his hands. "She told me that you've been carrying this pain for a long time, and that you shouldn't have to keep choosing between being yourself and having your family."
My eyes burn again.
"She didn't ask me to forgive you," he says. "She didn't demand that I change my mind. She didn't even make excuses for anything you've done. She just... talked about you."
He looks back at me. "And somewhere in that conversation, I realized something."
His voice cracks slightly. "I've spent so much time worrying about what I thought your life was supposed to look like that I forgot the only thing that ever actually mattered."
I stare at him.
"You."
The word sits between us.
"You're my daughter," he continues, his voice quieter now. "You're my little girl, and nothing should have been more important to me than that."
I don't move.
"I never should've let your mother make me believe that loving you meant disagreeing with every decision you made," he says. "And I never should've made you feel like you had to choose between being happy and having your father."
A tear slips down my cheek and he reaches up and wipes it away with his thumb.
"I don't know how to fix everything," he admits. "I don't know if I can fix it all right away. But I know I don't want to spend your birthday without you."
My lips tremble.
"I've never missed your birthday," he whispers. "Not once."
I look down, trying desperately to keep myself together.
"And honestly..." He takes another breath. "If Claire hadn't shown up at my house today, I probably would've spent the rest of my life hating myself for letting this be the first one."
I finally look back at him and he gives me that same sad smile from before. "So I came."
My chest aches. My father is quiet for a moment, his eyes drifting past me toward the table, toward Claire and I follow his gaze.
She's still there, standing a little away from everyone else, giving us the privacy she knows we need. But she's watching me. Her eyes are fixed on me with an expression I can't quite describe, and the second our eyes meet, her face softens.
My father notices and he lets out a quiet breath.
"I'll admit," he says, bringing my attention back to him, "I'm still trying to wrap my head around the whole... gay thing."
I blink, caught slightly off guard by his honesty.
He gives me a small, apologetic smile. "I don't mean that the way it probably sounds."
"I know." I whisper softly.
"I've spent my entire life thinking I'd be walking my daughter down an aisle someday to marry some man."
He shakes his head, almost laughing at himself.
"I had this whole picture in my head. Your mother and I would be there with your brothers, you'd have this big beautiful wedding, and some man would spend the rest of his life taking care of you."
My chest tightens.
"But then I met Claire."
I look at him again.
"Well," he corrects himself, "I didn't exactly meet her properly. She showed up at my house and scared the hell out of me."
A small laugh escapes me.
"She does have a way of doing that."
"Seems that way," he agrees, smiling faintly. "But Mae... I've never seen someone talk about you the way she does."
My smile disappears.
"She talked about you for hours."
"Hours?"
He nods.
"She told me about how long she's loved you. About everything that happened between you two. She didn't try to make herself look innocent, either. She talked about the ways she hurt you. She talked about the years you spent apart. She talked about the things she regrets."
He pauses, looking toward Claire again.
"And every time she said your name, it was like..." He shakes his head, searching for the right words. "Like she was talking about the most important thing in the world."
My throat tightens.
"She loves you, Mae."
I glance at Claire again. "I know."
"No." He looks back at me. "I don't think you understand."
His voice is gentle, but certain.
"I've seen people in love. I've been in love. I know what it looks like when someone cares about somebody. But that woman..." He looks toward Claire again. "She looks at you like you're the answer to a question she spent her entire life asking."
My eyes immediately burn and my father gives me a small smile.
I turn toward Claire again, and she's smiling at me now. That soft, almost private smile she gives me when she thinks nobody else is paying attention.
"She'd give you the entire world if she could," my father says quietly.
I look back at him.
"And maybe that's what I should've been looking for all along."
I don't say anything and he reaches over and gently squeezes my shoulder.
"Since the day you were born, all I've ever wanted was for somebody to love you enough to give you a good life. Someone who would cherish you. Someone who would make you feel safe. Someone who would look at you and know how lucky they are to have you."
His voice becomes quieter. "I just always thought that person would be a man."
He smiles sadly. "But why does it matter?"
A tear slips down my cheek.
"It shouldn't," he continues. "If it's a woman who loves you that much, then it's a woman."
He looks toward Claire one more time.
"And from what I've seen today, I don't think you could've found someone who loves you more."
I laugh softly through the tears, wiping beneath my eyes. "She really does."
"I know."
The certainty in his voice makes something inside my chest loosen.
"I'm still learning, Mae. I'm not going to lie to you and pretend that everything suddenly makes perfect sense to me. But I can learn."
I nod slowly.
"And if Claire is the person who makes you happy," he says, "then I want to learn how to love the person who loves my daughter."
My lips tremble, and for a moment, I can't find anything to say. So I step forward and wrap my arms around him again and he hugs me immediately. And this time, when I close my eyes, it doesn't feel like I'm holding onto something I've already lost.
It feels like I'm being given the chance to have it back.