Page 75 of Tempest

“Jesus, inhale some air, kid.”

“Sorry! I could talk about her for a while. I’m not trying to hero worship her or anything, she’s just really great, is all.” She takes a bite of the cranberry orange scone. “Dad, holy shit. This is good.”

“I’m getting better.”

“For her,” she states. “You’re getting better for Odette.”

“I mean, I have always been somewhat of a perfectionist, you know?”

“Yeah, but this is more than that,” she says, propping her chin on her fist and studying me. “Do you love her?”

“Is it weird if I tell you I don’t think I ever stopped? I don’t know how that’s possible, but I think I never stopped.”

“Not weird,” she says, her voice watery. I throw my arm over her shoulders and bring her in for a hug. “Not weird, Dad. Romantic as fuck.”

“Where did you get such a foul mouth?” I ask, kissing the top of her head. She smells the same as she always has, like the day we brought her home from the hospital.

“All my real-life role models are hockey players,” she says. “Sometimes I spit, too.”

“You do fucking not.” I laugh.

“No, it’s not that bad,” she says. “I don’t want to influence your choices by how much I adore her, but I think you two would be good together. In a profound way because you’re both similar in so many ways. I can see how you’d both quietly support each other.”

“Quietly?” I ask.

“Yeah, you know, not making her desires about you. No one taking over the other’s dreams and making decisions because you think you can do it better. Letting the other person be the loudest person in their own decision making.”

“This doesn’t make you sad? Because of the divorce and everything.”

“It does, but maybe not the way you’d expect. I’ve talked to Mom about your marriage, since you told me why you got married. I understand. So, I guess it makes me sad for all three of you. None of you really got a fair chance.”

“I don’t think I tell you enough how glad I am you moved back here,” I say. She’s a smart kid.

When we announced the divorce, she was understandably distraught. Then she got mad and directed most of that at me, probably because I was the one gone for so much of her life. It fucking sucked having the one person you love most in the world run away from you.

When I put it in that perspective, I get exactly how Odette felt.

“I don’t think I tell you enough that I’m sorry for how I acted,” she says. She hasn’t ever apologized. I’d never expect her to, anyway. “I acted like a brat.”

“You were processing a lot of feelings,” I tell her.

“That doesn’t mean I should have used you as my punching bag.”

“You’re wiser than your years, Victoria Vaughn. But I’ll be your punching bag anytime you need one. Sometimes we just need a place to focus our frustrations.”

“I appreciate that more than I can say,” she says. “Now. Are you dating Odette or not?”

“You’re a nosy little shit.”

“You’re an avoidant butthead,” she says, causing me to laugh.

“We’re trying.”

“Trying what?”

“Trying to see if we can have a relationship. Trying to see if she can trust me again.”

“Is that like dating without definitions or something?”

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