Come Together

by Jessica Hawkins

  The excitement of my impending visit to Dallas set in as I waited for a cab to the airport. Soon I would be home and discussing options with my dad, the only man I could really trust to look out for me. I had planned to sleep on the plane, but my thoughts kept my mind alert.

  Dad greeted me at the airport with a big, comforting hug. With one look, I realized how much I needed to talk to him.

  He took me straight to the clubhouse at his golf course, appalled by my weight, even though I was beginning to put some back on. There, he ordered enough food to cover the table.

  With concern etched in his face, he listened to an abbreviated version of the last month. I told him that the night before, I’d gone to Bill’s and ended it once and for all.

  “I can’t say I ever thought Bill was good enough for you,” he responded.

  “I know, Dad. You weren’t great at hiding it.”

  “I didn’t want to interfere, but I’m glad you figured it out. So I thought this trip was to introduce me to the new guy. He afraid of your old man?”

  “No. We’re still figuring things out, and he had a family emergency.”

  “You don’t seem too happy. Concerns me. Frankly, I don’t want you jumping from one unhappy relationship to another.”

  “It’s not that David doesn’t make me happy. It’s that he makes me sublimely happy.”

  He looked me up and down. “Not sure what that means.”

  “He’s wonderful, Dad. One of Chicago’s best architects.”

  At this he perked up. “That so?”

  I nodded fervently.

  “You in love?”

  I didn’t answer, but said, “I think you’d really like him.”

  “I’d say he has the advantage after Bill.”

  “Bill’s not that bad,” I scolded.

  “He doesn’t make you ‘sublimely’ happy. You settled with him.”

  “Mom has temporarily disowned me,” I said, purposely changing the subject.

  He laughed lightly. “Of that I have no doubt. I’m sure she said you were your father’s daughter.”

  “In so many words. But I’m not. Dad, I cheated on Bill. There’s no way around it. David and I started things months ago. And it’s hard for me to tell you,” I said, sniffling, “because I know you’re disappointed. But I’m the bad guy here. Not Bill.”

  “I’m not disappointed.”

  “Yes, you are,” I said, wiping my eyes. “And you should be.”

  He was silent as he spun his water glass on the table. “I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you this. Your mom was right about a lot. I met Gina while we were still together.”

  The restaurant suddenly became very loud, silverware clinking, people talking at unnatural volumes, and the light pouring through the windows was blindingly bright. I stared at my dad, the man I’d not only looked up to my whole life, but who I’d idolized and who I’d chosen to believe over my mother. All these years, she’d tried to tell me, but I’d shut her out.

  “Now, don’t give me that look, like a damn frightened owl. I have no regrets about what I did.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I breathed.

  He pulled on his chin. “You were so broken up about the divorce. I didn’t want to make things worse for you. I was afraid you’d get so upset that you’d ask to live with her instead of me.”

  “Don’t you think I should’ve been able to decide that for myself?” I asked, my temper rising.

  He shook his head but didn’t speak.

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because sometimes we make mistakes, and we learn from them. I want you to learn from my mistakes. But sometimes, Liv, it turns out the mistakes we make aren’t mistakes at all.”

  “Cheating on mom wasn’t a mistake?”

  “I’m not proud of it, but it happened. I’m not ashamed to say that for Gina, I’d do it again.”

  “But . . .” I paused. “Mom told me she wanted me to live with her. Why didn’t she fight for custody if you’d been unfaithful?”

  “She put her own daughter in the hospital. She wasn’t about to spend the lawyer’s fees when she knew I’d use that against her. And as a guarantee, I agreed to a much higher alimony if she didn’t pursue it.”

  Blood drained from my face. “You paid her not to fight for custody?”

  “She accepted more money not to fight for you. Without hesitation. Think about that. Like I said, I don’t regret it. Your mother couldn’t care for you the way I could, sugar, financially or otherwise. I hate to think how you would’ve turned out if she’d had her way.”

  My mother didn’t actually want me. I had suspected all along, but it was just another feeling I tried to ignore. Now I knew it was true. She didn’t have it in her to love me the way a mother should love her daughter. Her only daughter. Many times growing up, before Dad and I had left, I’d had the vague sense that she loved him more than me and that I’d taken a piece of him away from her.

  She was cold, like me. Dad did his best to protect me, but it seemed that I’d turned out like her anyway, just like Bill said. Now there was my dad to deal with. He’d cheated and worse, he’d lied, to me of all people. My rock. My idol.

  “Olivia?”

  “Did you love her?” I asked, meeting his concerned stare.

  “Your mother? I loved her in the beginning, but she had so much anger, and she became so difficult toward the end. Gina came along when I needed someone the most. And that night . . . the night in the hospital? I almost died of regret for not getting you out of there earlier. And for putting you through that. There was no question that it was the right time for me to get out. Gina was there with me the whole way.”

  I gaped at him as something occurred to me. “But I didn’t meet Gina until years later.”

  “I wasn’t taking any chances, kiddo. I had to be sure you were ready. And I had to know I could bring her around my girl.”

  I searched his face. “You didn’t marry her until I left for college. She waited all that time for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You kept a lot from me,” I stated, not exactly sure if I was angry or not.

  “It was to protect you.”

  I nodded mechanically, letting the information filter in. It was clear by his tone that he believed he’d done the right thing, but he looked hurt. It struck me deep inside, cutting through everything I’d just heard. Nothing was worse than seeing my dad in pain . . . something, I was realizing, that was also true of David.

  “You still love Gina, don’t you?” I asked.

  “Yes. And I miss her. But that’s not always enough.”

  “Do you regret it?” I rushed out.

  “Regret what?”

  “All of it. Any of it. Mom, me, Gina. If you knew back then that you’d be sitting here now in this moment, would you do it again?”

  “What the hell kind of question is that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why would I regret it? What’s going on with you?”

  “I just . . .” I paused, glancing up at the ceiling to blink back tears. “I’m afraid of getting hurt. I’ve never felt anything like this before. What if one day David changes his mind and leaves?”

  He slid his chair over to mine and put his arm around me. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, huh? I don’t regret a goddamn single thing. I would love and lose Gina again in a heartbeat, because we’re both better people for it. She gave me something so beautiful, I could never regret it. And your mother gave me you, among many other things. Every decision I made was right at the time, and I can’t say that any of them turned out badly.”

  I looked up at him through tear-blurry eyes and let him hold me. His words, as they always had, reassured me like nothing else could. “Thanks, Dad. Can we go home now?”

  “Check!” he yelled across the restaurant. “Of course, kiddo.”

  ~

  The early flight and news of my dad’s affair had me wrecked, so I we
nt straight upstairs for my childhood bed after lunch. I tried to wrap my head around everything I’d just learned, but the shock was still reverberating in me. He’d survived what I was going through. And he didn’t regret it. But he was strong, I reasoned. I wasn’t.

  I’d always thought that keeping others out was the same thing as strength. It made me pragmatic, unemotional. But I was quickly learning that it meant the opposite; that I was that way because I wasn’t strong enough to handle the pain that true love opened me to.

  Later, I woke groggily from a deep nap. I’d wasted almost a whole day sleeping. As I headed downstairs to find my dad, I turned my phone back on, and it vibrated with messages. Two voicemails from David, one from Gretchen and a missed text from her asking why I wasn’t picking up my phone.

  I yawned and fell into a kitchen chair to listen to David’s messages. My heart skipped knowing that I would get to hear his voice but before I could, there was a knock at the door.

  “Dad,” I called to no response. I groaned and padded sleepily to the door. When I pulled it open, my heart went from a skip to a leap.

  CHAPTER 17

  MY VOICE SOUNDED FOREIGN, high-pitched with surprise when I said David’s name. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  David nodded at my phone, which I was clutching. “I’m beginning to wonder why I even got you that thing.”

  “Er, I’m, um, I was sleeping . . . Sorry, what are you doing here?” I asked again.

  “Our conversation can’t wait. When you didn’t pick up your phone, I called Gretchen. If not for her I’d be wandering around the streets of Dallas by myself.”

  I gaped at him a moment before giving into a big smile. “You flew all the way here to talk? Couldn’t you have called?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “No. We’re doing this in person.”

  “You’re kind of persistent, aren’t you?” I teased.

  His pursed his lips. “You have time?”

  “Yes, of course, come in.” I moved aside.

  He took a tentative step through the door. “Where’s your dad?”

  “He’s here. Where’s your stuff?”

  “A hotel.”

  “Oh.” I clutched my heart. “You shouldn’t have done that. You can stay here.”

  “I don’t want to impose.”

  “You won’t. Alex?” I asked.

  His face lit up in a way that tugged at my heart, and he finally grinned. “He’s a trooper. In recovery and doing great.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  He crossed his arms. The smile faded. “Talk first, okay?”

  I nodded just as my dad started down the stairs. “Who is it?”

  Before I could answer, David stuck out his hand. “Hello, Mr. Germaine. I’m Olivia’s boyfriend, David Dylan.”

  “I see.” They exchanged a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, David.”

  “You too, sir.”

  “I understood you weren’t going to make it this weekend.”

  “We have some unfinished business that can’t wait,” David said.

  “I think you might be right about that,” Dad said, shooting me a glance. “Come on in.”

  I looked down at my childish pink and white plaid pajamas from high school and cursed to myself. “Do you – is it all right if I go change?” I asked, looking between the two of them.

  “Of course,” David said. “Go on.”

  I bolted up the steps and changed into a t-shirt and jeans, a small but necessary step up from my embarrassing outfit. When I came downstairs again, I was surprised to hear the bellow of two deep laughs emanating from the patio.

  “I see you found your common ground,” I said cautiously, stepping outside.

  “I like him already,” my dad said, raising his glass to David. “Never understood a man who doesn’t appreciate a good whiskey.” They clinked glasses of amber liquid and each took a deep sip. “So, Olivia tells me you’re an architect.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m partner at a firm in Chicago, but I do work all over the country.”

  I blinked my surprise. “Partner?”

  He nodded. “I became partner a few years back, but I hate the politics of it. I focus on what I love, which is more planning and design.”

  “I had no idea,” I said.

  “I prefer to remain silent. As you may have noticed, I have no tolerance for office bullshit.” I cringed when my mind flashed to the harsh way he’d fired his receptionist, Clare, right in front of me.

  “I hear you,” my dad said. “That’s why I went into consulting. I make my own hours, set my own fee. No bullshit. Partner for a top firm, though – that’s impressive.”

  “He’s one of Chicago’s most in-demand architects,” I bragged.

  David eyed me playfully.

  “And he has a Porsche,” I blurted.

  My dad’s posture straightened instantly. “Porsche?”

  “Yes, sir. 911 Classic.”

  “That so?”

  “That your C7 in the driveway?” David asked.

  He nodded once. “And a ’68 Shelby in the garage.”

  “What else do you have?” I asked David, knowing the fastest way to my dad’s heart was in a sports car.

  “The Mercedes is an SL 65 AMG. Black Series. And in New York, I’ve got a beautiful, copper Aston Martin Vantage.”

  “Engine?”

  “V12.”

  My dad let out a low whistle. “Shame to keep a car like that boxed up in the city.”

  “Tell me about it. Barely get to take her above eighty, but that baby can fly.”

  I watched David as he spoke, picturing how he’d handle a fast car on the open road. If it was anything like the way he handled everything else, it would be casually but in complete control.

  When I realized the conversation had stopped, I looked from David to my dad. He was chuckling. “I’ll give you two a chance to catch up,” he said. “I’m going to run to the market. Will you be staying for dinner, David?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  Once he’d disappeared into the house, I sat on the cushion of the nearest chaise lounge. I looked at the seat next to me and then up at David. He swirled his drink thoughtfully and sat.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” I said quietly, placing my hand on his thigh.

  “It drives me insane when I don’t know what you’re thinking,” he said right away. “You tell me you’re still empty inside after our weekend? Do you know how it tears me apart to hear that?”

  I gulped back tears. “I didn’t mean it,” I whispered. “I was scared. I felt cornered.”

  “Why?” he demanded. “What reason have I ever given you to be afraid?”

  “You deserve everything, and I don’t have that to give.”

  He leaned his elbows on his knees and kept his eyes forward. “I’m worried that you’re thinking about going back to Bill, and nothing would be worse than that. If you don’t want to be with me,” he paused, swallowed and shook his head, “if it meant you were truly happy, I would respect it. But talk about being worthy . . . he isn’t. I couldn’t live with knowing I’d had you and in the end, you still chose him.” He turned his head and looked at me finally from under heavy eyebrows. “I couldn’t, Olivia.”

  “It’s over.” He searched my eyes, and I nodded. “I went to see him last night, and it’s done.”

  His muscles tightened along with his jaw. “You went alone?”

  I placed my hand on his arm and squeezed. “It’s over. Completely.”

  He exhaled but kept his eyes on me. “And us?”

  I searched his face. In his eyes I saw everything I wanted. His love. Why couldn’t I accept it? What had I built around my heart that he couldn’t break through? I imagined, all those years ago, it had calcified into something inhuman, something hard, because I had buried it, ignored it, starved it. And for the first time, I wanted to let someone in, but was it too late? Was there any chance of penetrating its hardened exterior?r />
  His eyes flashed as I sat looking at him. “Baby,” he whispered. His voice turned grave. “Let go, please. I’m here, begging you to let me in. Let me love you the way you deserve. I know you’re afraid, but I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

  “How do you know?” I blurted. The happiness I’d felt just from seeing him and the fear his words inspired found their way up my chest. “How do I know you won’t grow tired of me like you did the others?”

  “Others?” he asked. “Olivia, there are no others. There only is, and only ever has been, you. Finding you finally . . . I’ve been looking for you for so fucking long. Let me love you.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know how.”

  He dropped his head in his hands and ran them through his hair. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how else to get you to see.” He swung his head in my direction. “Is it a ring you want?”

  “What?” I gasped, shaking my head. “No!”

  “What then? Tell me. I can’t . . .” He put his head back in his hands. Pain emanated from him, and it cut me deeply. I wanted to take it away however I could, no matter what it took.

  I dropped onto the concrete and sat back on my calves between his legs. With a hand on each of his knees, I looked up at him through blurry eyes. I took a deep breath. “You were right that night in my apartment,” I admitted. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone. Not even Bill, and not even close. You’re also right that I’m afraid. I’m scared to death that one day you’ll realize you were wrong and leave. Or that you’ll grow bored with the day-to-day and miss your bachelor pad.”

  “I hate – ”

  “I know, you hate when I call it that. Let me finish. I get that you believe you love me. I see it in the way you look at me. I feel it when you make love to me. You can tell me it a million times, but it won’t change the fact that one day, you might leave. And after only a few days of us, I’m on the verge of a breakdown just thinking about it. What will happen if you do leave? I’d fall, David, and I’d never get back up.”

  His beautiful brown eyes darted between mine. I wanted to drown in them. I could drown in them, let them swallow me without a fight. That was what scared me most of all.

  “You’re so afraid,” he whispered finally. “I can see it in your eyes.”