Page 26 of Father Knows Best (A Family Affair #1)
The violinist hired for tomorrow’s ceremony came tonight, and while I hadn’t planned on dancing at all, I was happy to share a dance with Kat and then Roberta so that Avery could dance.
Now, as the violinist performs her last song–La Capricieuse Op.
17, as requested for tomorrow for our first dance–I sit in a small crowd of family and watch Avery and my father dance together.
Their hands are clasped together, his hand splayed across her lower back, hers between his shoulder blades.
He says something, and she tips her forehead against his chest in laughter, as he lets his head fall back, also laughing.
I smile, watching as she lifts her head, blonde hair messy as her laughter continues.
My dad pushes hair off her face and shakes his head, and she erupts in more laughter.
I don’t know what he’s saying or what they’re talking about, but everything in my chest is suddenly alive and warm, and–
“Hey, don’t be that guy,” Cade says, walking past me, pointing to my crotch. “See you tomorrow.”
I look down and find– “fuck,” I grumble, tugging my suit coat off the back of my chair, draping it over my lap. I look back up at where Avery and my father were dancing, and find them headed my way.
“One last drink at the bar before we say goodnight?” she asks, blinking her long, seductive lashes at me. I agree, and we move to the small bar in the corner of the space.
After a final round, we say goodnight, and go our separate ways.
Avery went up right after the drink, eager to get to sleep since she has a full salon appointment in the morning for hair and makeup and I don’t know what else.
I say thank you and goodbye to as much of the staff as I can, then make the journey to my suite.
Standing at the bank of elevators, I knock the button with my knuckle, and it turns orange. My father comes to stand by my side. “Did you hit the button?” he asks, waving goodbye to a woman he’d spoken with at the bar earlier.
I nod toward her as she leaves. “Who’s that?” He didn’t bring a date, but they say old habits die hard.
He smiles, extending me his hand, which has a business card inside.
AMANDA HOLLIS, Entrepreneur. I nearly roll my eyes at the title, because everyone claims to be an entrepreneur.
“She’s looking for a property to bring her online business to scale.
” He smiles, hitting the elevator button again. “You judged her. You’re judgemental.”
“Obviously I already hit the button,” I say, then add, “and actually, I judged you, not her.”
His smile slips away. “You thought I was going to take her back to my suite?”
I shrug. “Maybe. I mean, if you did or do–you don’t have to worry about anything. I know differently now,” I say, wanting that to be the only time that we reference my deceased mother for the entire weekend.
He doesn’t say much, but gets onto the elevator with me when the doors open. “Nightcap?” he asks and since I’m still so wired from the excitement, I nod. “Sure.”
Once in my room, we bypass the logical places to sit–like the dining or breakfast room tables, the desk, or even the patio on our deck.
Instead, I sit at the foot of my bed and he sits next to me.
I pass him a plastic mini-bottle of Jameson, and in unison, we twist the lids off and toss them back.
My belly burns and my veins buzz, but I’m happy, so I tell him.
“I’m so ready for tomorrow.”
He makes a noise with his mouth closed, one of agreement or appreciation, I’m not sure. “I bet. I remember that feeling. Ready to leap into forever.”
I bob my head. “I really am.” Something occurs to me then, a buzzing, burning, suddenly nagging question, despite the fact that I don’t want to talk about my mother.
I do, however, want to know where his head and heart are at now.
The idea of marrying Avery tomorrow without knowing something so basic seems strange, and maybe that’s the whiskey, or the emotion of the night, or all of those things. “Can I ask you a question?”
He turns on the bed, angling one knee to face me as he strokes his hand down his silver beard. “Shoot.”
“You said that you’d do it over again, you’d choose Mom over and over, everytime.”
The bellhop outside the room knocks on a door, and there’s mumbling. I watch my father watching me, and I can’t tell if he’s deciding to tell the truth or to lie. “Did you not believe me when I said it before?” he asks slowly, unsure.
I think about the things he said. The drinking.
The blatant cheating. The carelessness and disrespect.
“I just…I guess, I want to know how you really feel about everything that happened, and not in a sense where you’re being considerate of me or the fact that she was my mother.
I just want to know the truth—would you do it again, did you love her so much that you’d really do it all again? ”
He doesn’t even waste a moment. “Yes.” He reaches into his pocket and passes me a small blue box. It’s my wedding band. He picked it up for me yesterday. Placing the box in my hand he says, “and you have that with Avery, too.”
Getting to his feet, he outstretches his hand, and I shake it.
“Goodnight son. Get some sleep, big day tomorrow.”