CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
He was downstairs.
Andrew Wade waited downstairs, sitting in a booth at my mother’s diner, stewing in the stifling discomfort of Bluebell Cove’s gossip microscope.
I took my time getting ready. I didn’t even need to—still fresh from Port Camden, my hair looked practically untouched after I ran a brush through it.
Still, I slowly peeled off each item of clothing, steaming out every infinitesimal wrinkle that appeared from half a morning spent on the floor of a dressing room.
While I touched up my eyeliner, I imagined the cold glances from my mother’s regulars and the hushed whispers as he entered. Sure, he’d won over a group of tourists. Maybe that ridiculous balloon distracted Mrs. Henderson—I never liked her that much anyway.
But I knew Bluebell Cove.
Nothing would change the fact that he was still the guy who left Ruth Wade and her daughter one night and never came home. He could use his unknowing little girl as a shield from the disapproval and judgement, but we all remembered the truth. I wouldn’t let him forget it.
I fixed my maroon lipstick in the hallway mirror and padded across the office.
He would never fool anyone with half a brai—
The door to the diner swung open, I stopped cold in my tracks at the bottom of the stairs.
Seated at a booth in the corner, looking more like a King holding court than a deadbeat dad, was my father.
The image I clung to all afternoon—Andrew Wade alone and ostracized, just as he should’ve been—dissolved and fell like ashes to my feet.
Dot, one of the owners of the Button Jar, hovered at the edge of his table and hung on his every word. Neal Callahan leaned on the booth behind him, an uncharacteristic grin twitching beneath his beard. I’d forgotten they used to be best friends.
In an instant, whatever confidence I had vanished from my body and was replaced by a pounding heart and buckling knees.
The hum of conversation and clatter of dishes grew muffled beneath the buzzing in my ears.
I gripped the door jamb, pressing my palm over my chest and willing my pulse to calm down.
Without thinking, I rummaged through my pocket for my phone and jabbed out a blind text.
My father looked up then. His smiling eyes settled on me as he bid his audience goodbye. “Margot!” he called, standing and spreading his arms wide.
I focused on keeping my footsteps steady as I approached.
“Hey,” I murmured, slipping into the booth and ignoring his cue for a hug. I shoved my trembling hands under my thighs, mumbling, “No Camille?” and scanned the diner for my mother.
He flexed his hands at his sides before sitting across from me. “I hired a local sitter—thought we’d need a private conversation.”
“Responsible parenting,” I mused sarcastically.
When he set his hands on the table, I tried not to fixate on the gold wedding band on his finger. My mother had gotten him a silver ring. “I understand the hostility, Margot. Really—I do.”
“Do you?” I snorted. “Because you showed up after eleven years and thought a hot air balloon would make a nice olive branch for your estranged daughter. I don’t know where you’ve been living, Andrew, but it hasn’t been reality.”
My voice sounded even firmer than I hoped. Straightening my shoulders, I stared at him, unflinching.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, and something sharp and sour curdled in my gut.
My ribs ached like they were closing in on themselves.
I never knew that I got the habit from my father.
How many other ways was I unconsciously mimicking him?
The taste of bile burned the back of my throat.
I swallowed hard, once, twice, as if I could force the resemblance away.
A silence swelled between us, thick and airless, until he finally said, “Your mother and I got married young, alright? We both changed more than we expected. And when I left… I shouldn’t have left you, Margot. I know that now.”
My pulse thudded in my ears. “Funny,’” I said, each syllable scraping my throat raw in protest. “That didn’t sound like an apology.”
His jaw ticked.
“I’m sorry for leaving. I really am.”
My voice cracked before I could stop it. “It’s too little, too late.” The words came out thin and trembling, and I hated how much they sounded like pleading. “You had eleven years to come back. Where were you?”
He rubbed his jaw and leaned his elbows on the table. Those familiar eyes crinkled at the edges as he whispered, “I’m a weak man. I… I was scared.”
I snorted. “Scared of your fourteen-year-old daughter?”
“That. Right there,” he replied. “I knew you’d find a way to put all the blame on me. It’s always been so easy to upset you, sweet pea.”
The nickname hit like a slap.
My fingernails broke skin. The pain grounded me for half a second—long enough to stop myself from reaching across the table. Each muscle in my body was coiled to snap while he looked back at me, the picture of neutrality.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I hissed.
He put his hands up like he was trying to soothe me. “Only that there are always two people in a relationship. Me and your mother, you and me.”
I was envisioning my mugshot when someone cleared their throat.
Red-faced, I turned to the noise, to see a particularly stoic Teddy sliding into the booth beside me.
His hair wet and mussed, and the flannel beneath his jacket wrinkled.
But he may as well have been wearing armor and riding a white steed.
“Teddy,” my father greeted, all smiles as his gaze flitted between us.
I hadn’t realized how heavy I was breathing until Teddy set a hand on my own, pressing until my fist unfurled and my fingers wove between his. The way he levelled my father with an uncharacteristic amount of impassivity didn’t go unnoticed. In fact, I almost swooned.
“Mr. Wade,” he responded. “What have you two been discussing?”
“Just trying to get our Margot here to see someone else’s perspective. You’ll know what a difficult task that is.” My father laughed, warm and sparkling and perfectly calculated.
“Really?” Teddy sent me a sidelong glance. “I’ve never known that to be the case.”
My heart, calmer than it was before, did a mini somersault.
When my father’s mouth opened, I cut him off. “Why are you really here?” I asked, eyes narrowed.
“You won’t believe me if I tell you.”
“Try me.”
His smile faltered. “My wife was always encouraging me to make amends. Then… she got sick. And it was her dying wish that Camille would know her sister.”
Well, dying wish was a little difficult to argue.
Teddy squeezed my hand, and I let out a long sigh.
I studied my father across the table, defiant in his ease and charm as he watched the wheels turn in my head. Of course, he knew that I wouldn’t say no. Maybe I wasn’t as strong as I thought, because I didn’t want to ignore a dying woman’s wish for her daughter. Let alone my own sibling.
Only, this sister came with strings attached. A thousand tiny strings that felt more like frayed nerve endings.
“I’ll think about it,” I murmured.
He sank back into his seat and cocked his head at me. It hadn’t been what he expected, at least. I’d take the wins where I could find them.
Teddy and I said our goodbyes, and he continued holding my hand on Main Street, and all the way to the beach. I sank into the sand, boots and all. It wasn’t until I let go of him that I realized I was shaking.
The wind blew fierce and cold, whipping through my hair and sending it twelve different directions as I stared blankly at the crashing waves.
I couldn’t tell if I was shivering from the gust or from everything I hadn’t said.
My fingers still tingled from being clenched so long.
When he wrapped that stupid, decade-old denim jacket around me, my shoulders finally dropped.
The air tasted cleaner, the acid finally gone.
Wordlessly, he sat directly in front of me. I was good at avoiding things. Great, even. He had a way of forcing me to look at him that still managed to frustrate me all these years later.
“Thanks for coming,” I mumbled.
“How could I pass up more quality time with Margot?”
Despite my best efforts, a smile cracked across my face. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Only for you,” he replied.
I tried not to think too much about what he meant.
“You’re probably freezing,” I said, arching a brow at his still-dripping hair.
“Good point.” Before I registered what he was doing, Teddy scooted beside me and draped an arm across my shoulders. “That’s better.”
My shivering finally ceased beneath his warmth. I couldn’t fight the way his presence made my muscles relax, or how the lavender-and-sherbert streaked sky forced me to lean my head against him. All I wanted was to forget everything for five minutes and watch it be overtaken by twilight.
But my thoughts refused.
“How much did you hear?” I asked, suddenly twelve and meeting Teddy in the alley after one of my parents’ blowup fights.
“Enough.” His arm stiffened. “He was wrong, M. You know that.”
The rich, honeyed lilt of his voice would’ve been a balm for my wounds if they weren’t already so deep. My father’s words continued to play on repeat, sharper and more stinging each time. “It’s always been so easy to upset you, sweet pea.”
I knew I was tough. No one got as far as I did, as young as I was, without being tough. Even before he left, I held my life together with nothing but grit and sheer will. Some would call it growing up too fast. I called it survival.
The rational part of me knew I couldn’t be blamed for the consequence of his absence. How else was I supposed to behave, when I raised myself and became an adult at fourteen?
I never considered the alternative until now.
Maybe he was right. Maybe he never came home because of me. It would finally explain the inexplicable: my mother’s distance from me, and his returning to town as if nothing ever happened.
The thought landed like a fist to the sternum. My chest tightened until each breath scraped the inside of my ribs.
“What if it’s my fault?” I whispered, quiet and ragged and nearly carried away by the wind.
Teddy’s eyes were sharp as he took my chin and pulled my face up to his. If I wasn’t falling apart inside, I would’ve admired the strong slope of his nose or the new scar just over his right cheek. I struggled to avoid looking at his lips even as tears threatened to fall.
“It was never your job to make him stay,” he replied. “He’s your father, Margot. Out of everyone, you should’ve been able to depend on him.”
And then, cradled in Teddy Bowman’s arms while we sat on Seaglass Beach, I cried for the first time in over a month.