Page 99 of Just My Fake Husband

Her eyes move into slits and she cocks her head to one side. The lilting music of our doorbell breaks through the magic between us.

“I’ll answer that,” I say, happy to drag out the dinner reveal a little longer. It’s probably one of my brothers or their wives.

I open the door, ready to remind them it’s our anniversary and to be quick about it, when I’m met with my dad’s scowling face.

“Dad?”

I haven’t seen him much since our big fallout in the penthouse. Besides family events, in which he mostly keeps his distance from me, we haven’t spoken. I’ve missed him. I didn’t realize how much until I see him standing under my porch light, holding a gift bag.

“Your mom tells me it’s your anniversary,” he says.

I nod, lightning shooting across my skin. I’m bracing myself for what he might say but also, it’s good to see him again. “Come in,” I say, opening the door further and stepping aside.

He hesitates, but steps through the threshold just as River joins me.

“Hi, Thomas,” she says.

“Hello, River,” my dad glances around the room. “Nice place.”

“It’s very nice, but we’re in the process of looking for a place of our own,” River says. “We’ve taken it slowly because there’s really no rush since Gabriel’s friends have no immediate plans to move back. But I think it’s time to get more serious about it.”

“Your mom told me that. Good luck with the search.”

River glances at me before stepping to the sofa. “Have a seat.”

“Uh, no. But thanks. I just wanted to stop by and give you an anniversary gift.” He hands it to her. “It’s just a couple of gift certificates and a pen set.”

I have to laugh. It’s the quintessential gift from Thomas Tate, with the exact delivery method of telling you what the gift is before you even have a chance to open it. My mom always gives him a hard time about that habit.

I lean over to take a peek in the bag through the tissue paper. “Thanks, Dad. That’s great.”

Dad clears his throat and scratches at his eyebrow. “I also want to say . . . well, I wanted to apologize for how I reacted to Prague, son.” He chews his bottom lip, his gaze going everywhere but mine.

Before I can respond, he squares his gaze on me. “And I don’t know if you kept it or not but if you happen to still have that medallion you gave me when you were eleven, I’d love to have it back.”

A pause. My heart is pounding through my ears and throat.

“I don’t deserve the accolade in any way,” he continues. “But it’s a prized possession that I lost my head over and I’d appreciate getting it back.” He rubs a fist under his eye. “If you already got rid of it or don’t want to give it back, though, that’s understandable.”

“Wait.” I go to the mudroom and unearth it from under a stack of mail. The glass is still sporting two spidery cracks through the center and the frame is starting to come apart in the corner.

“I kept meaning to throw it out or repair it, but I didn’t do either.” I hold it out to him.

It’s silly, really, that the small gift from when I was a kid could represent so much.

He takes it from me and runs a thumb across a crack. “No, this is great. I’ll get it fixed. Thank you.” He bunches up his mouth before going on. “Gabriel, I’ve decided to start the process of retirement for real now. The board’s begun the search for possible candidates to take over and I’ll spend the next year or so working with him or her for a smooth transition.” He shoots out a quick breath. “I wanted to ask you to come back, if you’d like.” He glances at River. “And if River feels good about it.”

Sharp ice carves out my stomach. She and I had discussed this possibility, along with many other scenarios that could come to fruition in our future, and I know what we decided. I reach ahand to her, and she closes the gap, holding it with both of her hands. We share a glance, and I know we’re on the same page.

“I’m honored you’d ask me, Dad, but I’m going to have to decline.”

At his frown, I go on. “I love what I’m doing. I approve of my life. I don’t need your approval anymore, but I would like us to repair our relationship, if that’s possible.”

Dad nods. “Of course. I kind of figured you’d say you didn’t want to come back to Foundations, but I had to try.” He lifts up the frame. “Thanks again. And . . . best wishes for many happy returns on the day.”

So not a typical “Dad” way to exit a room, but I’ll take it.

“Wow,” River says curling into a hug after he’s gone. “That was kind of . . . big.”

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