Page 77 of Wild Dreams

"So it's not about your hours or the danger in your job?" Mom asked.

"Dad was absent for dinners, couldn't make games. I want to be present for my kids."

Dad leaned forward. "Listen, I never regretted anything. I was there for you kids and able to work at the same time. You never felt neglected, did you?"

I was quick to shake my head. "Not at all. I just worried that Mom did."

Mom twisted the napkin in her hand. "I worried for his safety, but I never wanted him to stay home with us twenty-four seven. His job gave him purpose, just like mine did. We wouldn't be the people we were without our jobs."

"So you never wished he didn't work as much?" I wanted to make sure I understood what was going on, because I'd based my life story on this perception of my parents' life.

"Not like how you mean. I wouldn't have married anyone else. Your father was it for me." She touched his hand, and they exchanged a look filled with emotion.

"Would it be fair to Marigold to contemplate a life with her when I have such a demanding job? I might not always be able to put her first."

"What matters most is your intention. If you treat her like a queen and always put her interests above all else, then you'll be fine. You can delegate things at work. For the record, I never approved of getting those updates on your phone. You tense every time a message comes through. You need to trust your deputies to handle it."

I blew out a breath. I suspected that I was holding on too tightly at work, and here was my confirmation, from the man who'd done the job.

"Your role can be a bit more hands off. You don't have to be present at every call. The world won't fall apart."

I pursed my lips. "I want to do a good job."

"A good manager knows his employees' strengths and puts them in positions to do their best work."

I nodded. "I have to learn to delegate and let go of the control."

Dad nodded. "That's right."

I picked up my fork, feeling better about balancing everything.

"Is this thing with Marigold serious?" Mom asked.

"I messed up. I took some time to think about things but didn't talk to her. Now it's been two weeks. I'm worried it's too late."

Mom patted my hand. "Talk to her. Tell her what's been going on. You have a huge heart, and I'm sure she knows that."

"I never wanted to be the guy that hurt her." Not like her parents.

Mom pulled her hand away. "Remember, it's what your intention is that matters. Follow that up with some action and words, and I'm confident Marigold will hear you out."

But I wanted so much more. I wanted to come home to Marigold every day. I wanted to share my life with her. Everything was brighter and easier when she was part of my day. I wanted to parade her around town as my girlfriend, with the town gossiping about when I'd put a ring on her finger. I wanted marriage, kids, everything I hadn't let myself think about.

We finished eating, and Mom was clearing the plates. "Do you have a plan?"

"I need your help." I just hoped it wasn't too little too late.

20

MARIGOLD

The last few weeks had been busy but painful. I hadn't heard from Chance since the night I talked to my parents. When I woke up, he was gone. I thought for sure he'd stay to make sure I was okay, but he hadn't. Then I thought he'd call, but he didn't. Every day that went by, I lost a little more hope.

Chance could have been called into work for some emergency, but when I didn't hear from him after that, I knew it was intentional. When he didn't stop by the theater, I suspected he was avoiding me, and it sucked.

There had been persistent pain in my chest ever since. I wished Chance had told me instead of making me figure it out.

Instead, I focused on the play, spending most evenings with Scarlett rehearsing. It meant a lot to me because I created the story with the idea that it would be acted out. It felt a little like birthing a baby. I couldn't have been prouder, but I was nervous we wouldn't pull off a good performance in time.

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