Color Me Pretty: A Father's Best Friend Romance

My parents were dead.

The ballet dancer in me was dead.

And my mother’s last wishes were ignored, leading to my father’s demise.

It made me wonder how much my father really loved my mother. I knew, at one time, he loved her so much it almost felt like what he felt for me wasn’t enough—like I was somehow second best to their love story. Maybe I’d gotten it wrong though. If my father’s feelings were as strong as I thought they were, he would have listened. He would have tried.

Be better.

“Della?” My aunt’s worried voice clouded the train of thoughts that left me spiraling. Sucking in a deep breath, I gave her a fake smile and stared back at the painting, trying not to give away the truth in my eyes. Our family was said to give everything away because of them. One look was all it took before the world knew…everything.

Lydia stepped away from the canvas and toward me, reaching out and taking my hand. The squeeze was what had me looking down at our joined palms, her fingers interweaving with mine. Our skin tone was almost identical, but hers was slightly darker. I remembered her tan in the summertime too. Just like my father, it didn’t take long for them to get color when they went outside.

“Lydia…” I hesitated—my voice barely audible between us. “Do you think that my father was a bad person? That my parents should have been better than who they were?”

Her hold on my hand tightened. “I’m not sure it matters what I think.”

“But it does.”

Her head shook, kind eyes directed at me as if she were trying to tell me something without saying the words themselves. I needed to hear them though.

“Everybody has an opinion,” I pointed out. “We should know that better than anyone. What I want to know is yours. You loved him.”

There was no pause that time. “I did. I still do, Della, but what matters is you. You were hurt by them. And I may not know the extent of your mother’s knowledge over your father’s business, but I’ve had my own suspicions for some time. That shouldn’t change anything for you, though.”

How could it not? Just as I was about to argue that she hushed me. “I don’t think your parents were bad people. I think they both made bad choices that they couldn’t come back from. If your mother knew, she could have stopped him. If you father wanted to, if he felt he was strong enough, he would have ended his dealings. What they chose to do impacted you in an unfair way. I’m sure he held a lot of regrets over it because he loved you very, very much. Do you know that? That he loved you?”

I blinked, heart heavy over her sure words. There was no way I could tell her I believed her when I had my doubts. They’d weaseled their way into every nook and cranny and settled into my bones to taunt me when the time welcomed it.

Lydia pulled me into her, the hug not unwelcomed but taking me by surprise. She whispered, “Oh, Della. I know it may not feel like it, but it’s the truth. And if…if what Theo thinks is true, then your father was trying very hard to get back to you, doing anything he could. That counts for something.”

I jerked back, wide-eyed. “He told you?”

The sympathy was prominent on her face as she swept hair behind my ear. “Theo loves you too, Della. In ways that…well, it doesn’t matter. But he didn’t tell you to hurt you. It was something that needed to be said because there’d be a day when it got out anyway. Which would be worse? Hearing it from somebody who cares about you or from a stranger?”

I closed my eyes and buried my face in her neck. Her floral scent eased my shaken nerves as I wrapped my arms around her. There were no words that could lessen the rising guilt weaving in my conscious. I’d been awful to Theo because I was angry, but it really wasn’t at him. I’d dwelled on it longer than I wanted to and acknowledged that I owed him an apology. I just didn’t know how. I didn’t know if he’d understand. And if he didn’t? I didn’t blame him. I had no right to yell—to push him. The last thing I wanted to do was close out the one person I had left who’d always been in my corner.

“I messed up,” I whispered brokenly to my aunt. Those three words heightened the pain in my chest, and it spread throughout my body as I replayed what I’d said to Theo when all he was trying to do was be honest.

Her response was to hold me tighter, stroking my back with her free hand. “There’s nothing that can’t be fixed, not when it comes to you. Okay? Whatever it is, it’ll work out.”

Blinking back tears, I nodded.

Be better. I chanted that to myself again until it was drilled into my head like a permanent feature.

Chapter Sixteen

Della

I smelled the smoke before I saw the cloud lingering in the open office. The door was normally closed, so I knew he didn’t have any company. He usually didn’t pull a cigarette out unless he was alone so nobody could scold him or complain. Namely, me.

Instead of knocking, I stepped past the threshold and ran a palm down my jean-clad thigh. Inhaling the bitter tobacco that drifted toward me, like my lungs beckoned the torture, I watched that bulky, broad man with eyes closed and head tipped back as he leaned against his chair like he was trying to forget where he was.

Did I do that to him?

“Theo?” I whispered.

Instantly, his body tensed, straightening as he lowered the cigarette from the lips I knew all too well. Swallowing, I watched him open his eyes and take me in. Even from where I stood, I could see the dark circles under his eyes. They matched mine, and the intensity stung me. That didn’t last long though as he put his cigarette out in the ashtray he kept hidden in his top right desk drawer. His entire posture changed as he stood, his face, to my surprise, softening for a moment. He took in the jeans and tee combo which was nothing special on my body, but that wasn’t how his eyes reacted to the cheap clothing I’d gotten at thrift stores.