Page 81 of Bridesmaid to Bride

“Paige is your perfect daughter, right?” I press on, ignoring the storm clouds brewing in his eyes. “The golden daughter?”

His jaw clenches, the muscles ticking like a time bomb. “This isn’t about Paige,” he snaps, his voice a low growl.

My heart thuds against my ribs at the familiar piercing pain of being second best. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Enough, Eva.” His index finger is raised like he’s silencing an unruly client. But I’m not backing down, not this time.

“No.” The challenge hangs between us, sharp and dangerous. I’m tired of playing it safe, tired of being the good daughter, the responsible one. “Sometimes I wonder if you even see me.” My voice drops to a whisper, the fight draining out of me. I’m exposed, all my carefully constructed walls crumbling. And there he sits, chained up, still with all the power to rebuild them or blow them down completely. “Or if you’re just barking out orders to me as you swell with pride looking at her.”

My fingers ball into fists, the same ones that kneaded dough in my failed bakery, now clenching in a different kind of desperation. My chest heaves, and I swear my heart is skipping beats as if it’s forgotten its damn job. Then the words escape me between hiccups of breath. “You’ve never forgiven me for Mom, have you?”

His red face turns white, and his silence says it all.

Tears ambush me, streaking down my cheeks. My lips quiver uncontrollably, and I feel like I’m going to be sick.

Dad’s a statue, chiseled from years of heartache and silent judgment. His eyes, those twin pools of arctic dismissal, refuse to meet mine. In them, I search for a glint of compassion, a flicker of paternal warmth. Finally, he says, “No.”

That single word detonates in the silence, echoing off the walls.

No excuses. No elaboration. No freaking violin swell and a fatherly hug moment. Just “no.” Cold, hard, and served straight up.

Forgiveness? What was I thinking? This is Neil Steinberg we’re talking about. And yet, somewhere, somehow, the little girl in me still hoped.

“Right,” I manage, my voice a squeaky hinge. My hands drop to my sides, defeat wrapping around me like a lead apron. My voice is dead. “Then I’m done trying. I’m done fighting for something that’s never going to happen. I quit your firm. I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be with Foster, and I sure as hell don’t want to move back to New York. I love it in Atlanta, and I love my friends who have become my family there. I choose happiness over hypocrisy, and you and I are done.” I take a step back. “Enjoy your chains,” I say, without a shred of remorse. “I’m breaking free from mine.” I look back and forth at West and Skye. “Now we can go.”

I dart out with the earth splitting beneath my feet, leaving the mighty Neil with a daughter-sized hole where his conscience should be.

41

The Dark Discovery

WEST

Eva runs out of the resort and toward the beach, and although I know I probably should give her space, I just can’t.

When I finally catch up to her, I say, “I’m here if you need me.”

She slows her pace. “I can’t think. I can’t feel. I can’t anything.” Her words squeak out through a sob.

“I understand.” I shake my head, reality hitting me like a sledgehammer. “Wait. No, I don’t. I understand a lot of things, but I’ll never understand this. But maybe your dad’s just messed up and needs to get his head together.”

She stops walking and puts a hand over her chest. “It hurts so damn much!”

I put an arm around her and pull her tight. I can’t imagine the pain of being rejected by my own father like that, especially after spending a lifetime doing everything to make him happy. All I say is, “I’m here.”

She sobs into my arms, and my heart splits into pieces as her words to her dad slam through my mind.

You’ve never forgiven me for Mom, have you?

What the hell did that mean? How in the world could Eva be responsible for her mother dying in a car accident? Come to think of it, Eva never has talked about it much. Never given any details.

Clearly, there’s much more to know. How has she held this secret her whole life?

I don’t know, but the weight of it must’ve been suffocating.

I hold her in silence until she’s all cried out. Then she pulls away and swipes the tears from her red, puffy face. Shaking her head, she says, “So, that bitch isn’t the one trying to ruin the wedding, is she?”

I bark out a tension-relieving laugh. “Seems like she’s had other things on her mind.”

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