Flash Burned (Burned 2)
I cringed. My dad didn’t typically swear in front me—or at all, as a rule. But I could see where this revelation would blindside him. Send him over the edge.
“Dad.” I struggled for the right words. “Calm down. I know it’s kind of a surprise—”
“Kind of?” he blurted.
“Well, in our defense, we are living together. So obviously, we’re serious about each other. Even you can’t ignore that fact. It’s sort of like a … a…” I wracked my mind, then said, “A natural progression.”
Reasonable, right?
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He fell silent. I could feel his tension through the airwaves.
“Dad?” I tentatively prompted. “You will be here tomorrow, right?”
“Jesus, Ari.” He let out a long breath. “Marriage is—”
“I know, Dad. Of all people, you don’t have to tell me it’s difficult, not something to enter into lightly, et cetera. I know. Am I scared? Hell, yes. But I also can’t breathe without him. I love him enough to face my darkest fears with him.” Snakes, scorpions, and marriage.
There you go.
My worst nightmares.
And yet … I’d survived the snake in the stairwell. The scorpions that had dropped from the terrace onto my plate and shoulder—and stung me.
When it came to surviving wedded bliss … well, I couldn’t survive without Dane, so there was no point in putting this off. Like everything else about us, it was inevitable.
“Am I calm?” I said into the phone. “No. But do I know what I’m doing?” The smile returned. “Dad, he makes me happy. Isn’t that good enough for you?”
He merely grunted.
“It’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Why aren’t the two of you telling me this together? In person?”
Touchy subject. “Yeah, I know.” I couldn’t say it’d come about so quickly we hadn’t had the chance. That would scream impulsive and he’d poke holes in my reasoning and lose a little more faith in us. So I said, “Dad, you can’t deny that Dane has been nothing but respectful. It’s just that … well, he doesn’t have family. Never knew his parents. And his aunt, who raised him, died years ago. He’s not exactly traditional. He makes up his mind about something and that’s all he really sees.”
My father was quiet for a spell. Then, in a tone that contradicted his reluctance to concede, he said, “We’re not exactly traditional, either. I suppose it’s a tiny bit hypocritical to want him to be conventional.”
I relaxed a little. “Maybe that’s just one more thing about us that works. He did have a more family values–type upbringing, but he still had to be independent and fend for himself. When you were on PGA tours … Mom wasn’t always around. And after the divorce. Well. I could have just gotten my own hotel room at thirteen for all the company and parental supervision I had on the rare occasions she let me visit her.”
“You never told me it was that bad.”
“Because we don’t talk about stuff like that, Dad.”
He sighed.
“We just get by,” I said. “Do what we have to do and not make a fuss out of it.” All of that had changed for me this year. “Now I want more. I have more. With Dane. Because of Dane.”
“Ah, sweets.” His darker, agonized voice tore at me. “I’m so sorry your childhood was shit.”
Tears stung my eyes. He wasn’t being martyrish. It really had been shit. But …
“Dad, it was never, ever your fault.”
“All I want is for you to be happy.”
I perked up. Swiped at the fat drops rolling down my flushed cheeks. “Then come here tomorrow night. Seven o’clock. And don’t scowl or skulk about, you know? Act like you’re thrilled for me. Because, Dad … I am happy.”