The Truth

Elle considers her words carefully. “Not gonna lie. Weird, but . . .” The pause stops my heart in my chest. “But good.”

I breathe once again. “Really?”

Elle picks up her burger again, taking a big bite to give herself time to put her thoughts into words. “All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. I thought I knew what would be best for you, but obviously, I was wrong. And you know I don’t say that lightly.” She looks over her left shoulder, then her right like someone might’ve heard her say that and noted the date and time she admitted to being wrong. “I knew Tiff was serious about liking you all these years, but I didn’t think . . . look, if I’d have known your perfect match was Tiffany, I would’ve locked the two of you in an elevator a long time ago and taken credit for the whole thing.”

I laugh because I can totally see Elle yanking a circuit breaker and then standing guard outside the box, fending off the repair crew with a crowbar.

“No doubt. Elle, I want you to know I have been happy being your dad. I wouldn’t change anything about that or the years we’ve had together, just the two of us against the world.”

“And sometimes against each other,” she adds with a grin that reminds me of her rebellious teen years when she thought I was unreasonably strict and I worried she was going to end up in a ditch somewhere in Mexico if I didn’t track and control her every move.

“But this is different. I’m happy in a different way, for the first time in a long time.”

Elle leans forward, planting her elbows on the table and her hands going to her chin. Her eyes are sparkly with happiness as she looks at me openly. “I’m so glad, Dad. That’s all I ever wanted.”

“So we’re good?”

“You buy me a milkshake to go with this burger, and we’re better than good,” Elle says with her normal sassiness. “We’re great. But I’m still not calling her Mom.”

I laugh. “Let’s not get carried away. It’s too soon for that.”

Elle scoffs. “Yeah, right, Dad. You have no idea the magic Tiffany can work. She’s bewitching and will have you down on one knee before you know it. Already, I can see that look on your face.”

Before I can argue that there’s no look on my face and I don’t know what she’s talking about, she keeps going . . .

“Or else look me in the eyes and cross your heart swear that with all this talk about Ace and Harper’s wedding, you haven’t once wondered how Tiffany would look in a wedding dress.”

Heat flushes my neck, and I swallow the lump of black bean burger in my mouth. “Well, I am now.”

Like a sniper, my daughter zeroes in on her target. Me.

“Or imagined her naked with nothing but your ring on?”

I sit up straighter, my brow arching sharply. “I am not discussing my sex life with my daughter.”

The declaration allows for no argument. So, of course, she argues.

“Yeah, you’ll have to get over that. Tiffany and I talk about everything. If I have to listen to her waxing poetic about my dad, then you can have a real conversation with me. It’s bound to be less awkward than your first attempt at the birds and bees talk when I was a kid. I thought you were trying to surprise me with a trip to the zoo, for fuck’s sake. God, that was horrible. I’m still scarred, not to mention triggered by the smell of honey.”

She’s got a flair for the dramatic, but she makes a fair point. I still don’t concede.

“When you’re just having sex, you think of sex and getting off. When you’re really in it for keeps . . . your mind goes other places too.”

“Ah. And when did you start thinking of Colton in a tuxedo? Or nothing but a ring, and not just . . . a recipient of your Xerox adventures?” It’s a lame attempt at turning the tables on her, and I stutter over the copy machine thing again, pretty sure that I do not want to know the truth about that one.

Elle groans at the silly joke. “Are you ever gonna let that go?”

“Depends on how many copies are out there and how many people I need to kill for seeing them,” I say seriously.

She rolls her eyes and huffs, “I do not know what Tiffany sees in you.”

* * *

The wedding hall is small, but that’s just about right. Everyone’s sitting close together, not quite packed like sardines in a can, but if Ace and Harper had booked a big church, I think we would have rattled around inside.

“The arch is a nice touch,” I whisper to Colton as we sit on the groom’s side of the hall. “Really good work.”