Page 103 of The Cost of Forgetting You

Dad shakes his head, still smiling at the pile of clothes. “You look perfect. And he’ll have me to contend with if he says otherwise.”

The idea of my sweet, loving father being someone to contend with is laughable. Especially when he loves Truett arguably more than he loves me. Even so, my chest grows impossibly tight. “I love you, Dad. You know that, right?”

His gaze flicks to mine, blue eyes now glossy. The blades of my ceiling fan dance in their reflection. “I know. And I have no clue what I did in this life to deserve it.”

Tears pool along my lash line. I blink them back, clearing my view of him. It feels like we’re really seeing each other for the first time in weeks. Perhaps in years. I don’t want to let the moment go. Lately I see so much of him in me. And the more Mom shows her true colors, the closer I look at my feelings for Truett… It’s getting hard to feel justified in blaming my dad for everything that’s happened in our family. At least entirely.

And I want his forgiveness, I realize, for ever blaming him in the first place. But I don’t know how to ask for it in light of everything. So I ask for what I can.

“Just don’t forget it, okay?” I whisper the words, afraid they’ll upset him. But it feels impossible not to say them. I’m not sure who it is I’m pleading with, if it’s him or the universe itself. All I know is that this disease is so cruel. It’s taking something so precious from me. From my dad. I just want him to have this one thing. The knowledge that he is loved.

Maybe it’ll outlast the knowledge that I left. That I stayed away for so long.

“Never.” He chokes on the word. We both know it isn’t up to him. But I am my father’s daughter, and I’ll pretend for as long as he will.

The growl of an engine shatters the fragile moment. I tap my phone, noting the time. “He’s early.”

“He’s excited.” Dad smirks. “As he should be. He’s been waiting since the two of you were kids.”

“Did everyone know that except for me?”

He shrugs. “Pretty much.”

I rise, grab my purse off the bed, and perch on my tiptoes to place a kiss on Dad’s stubbled cheek. It strikes me that we never got this experience. I wasn’t dating in high school—I was too caught up on Truett to see anyone else—and then I moved away. We’re doing things over, all of us, and I’m filled with gratitude that I get this chance before it’s too late.

“Love you. Don’t wait up.”

“Make good choices.” He winks, but the way he clears his throat cuts through the playfulness. He’s as sentimental as I am, and I know this moment means something to him.

“Always do.”

“That you do.” He chuckles as he steps to the side and sweeps his arm out, offering me the right of way. “Definitely didn’t get that from me.”

What did I get? I wonder. Besides a propensity for people-pleasing and an unhealthy obsession with a Parker.

That’s when it hits me: I’m going on a date with Truett Parker. How in a million years?

“Have fun tonight! And tell that boy to be a gentleman!” Dad calls.

“Or not to be,” Roberta adds in a low voice. She’s standing at the kitchen counter, separating Dad’s medications into his weekly pill holder. The doctor upped his dosage, and while it seems to be helping, I can’t stop myself from grieving this little progression. A step closer to the end.

Roberta flattens her lips, but there’s a smile written in her twinkling brown gaze.

“Heard that,” Dad retorts.

Roberta nudges him with her elbow when he joins her at the counter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He gives her a flat look, and she laughs.

“You two behave,” I call over my shoulder. I slip on my dirt-smudged Keds as the door shuts behind me. I have nicer shoes since Mom sent my package, but it feels meaningful to wear the ones he got me. It feels right.

Tru’s parked behind my car, leaning against the door of his truck. I pause at the top step, admiring him. The late afternoon sun glistens on his disheveled hair. It’s brushing his ears and neck, long overdue for a cut. My fingertips itch to comb through it. To lace there as he settles between my legs, those gray eyes glinting with desire…

“Normally I’d never tell a woman this, but you might want to hurry up.”

I startle. My skin sizzles under his scrutiny. The way he’s looking at me, it’s like he knows exactly where my mind was headed. Impossible. And yet I flush scarlet. “Excuse me?”

He braces one hand on the hood of his truck. Veins pop along his corded forearm, and I have to force myself not to trace their path with my gaze.

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