Page 29 of The Best You've Ever Had

“Because I wanted you to pay attention to me instead. I saw how much you wanted him, and how much you definitely didn’t want me. I guess my young teenage self was envious of that.”

“Oh. Huh. I thought you hated me right back.”

“I’ve never hated you, Layla.”

The sound of my heart thrums in my ears at his honesty. If it hasn’t been hate this entire time, then what has it been? It’s a question I’m too terrified to ask, because the answer could forever alter this frenemies storyline I’ve had in my head for decades.

I try to change the subject to not bury myself in deeper shit. “How’d you end up with your cat Hank?”

“We got a call one day about a cat stuck up in a tree. Even though it was another slow day, the chief refused to take the call since he said it wasn’t a real emergency. According to him, you never see any cat skeletons in trees, and he figured the cat would come down on its own. But my friend and coworker, Cody, used to work for animal control and mentioned that hehadseen a deceased cat in a tree before.”

“Your chief’s a dick then.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” he chuckles. “Anyways, after work the next day, I swung by the park to see if the cat was still there. He was. And he was tiny and looking at me with those round green eyes. I couldn’t get to him on my own, so I called up a tree-trimming company, and convinced them to let me use their ladder in exchange for a hundred bucks. Then the rest is history.”

“So, you saved him? Did Hank walk right up to you and you carried him down like some big brave hero?”

“Hell no. He scratched the shit out of me, and I was nearly crying in pain. He warmed up to me eventually though.”

“That story makes you extremely likable, and I’m not sure how to process these new emotions.”

From the driver’s seat, he winks. “I’m sure we could think of a few ways to process them.”

I flick up the sun visor and groan. “If the world only hadhalfof your confidence, I swear.”

We turn into Havenbrook’s newest shopping center, which is still older than my parents. Its faded brick facade and dimly lit signage an indication of its age. He parks the car and tells me he’ll be back in five minutes. I insist on going in, not wanting to wait in the freezing car and curious to see if the interior of the building matches my memories from eleven years ago. Everything feels familiar, but time has subtly changed the details, leaving it both recognizable and different from what I remember.

I browse the aisles as he picks up the multiple medications that will keep his grandfather comfortable. Everything in here is exactly the same: the beige, scuffed-up paint, the same products on the same aisles. It brings back a sense of nostalgia, reminding me of stopping here after a doctor’s appointment to pick up a prescription or tissues, begging Mom to let me buy one of the brightly colored lollipops near the register.

As I round the corner towards the nail polish selection, I come face-to-face with the last person I ever wanted to see again—my father. The one who left us like a captain abandoning a sinking ship. The one who didn’t even try to reach out after everything fell apart.

All the general details of him are the same—tall, blond, and bright blue eyes. But now there are more frown lines on his face, more white wisps throughout his short-cut hair. He’s just like this store—exactly how I remember him, but different.Older, yet unchanged. A sense of wistfulness clings to the good memories, a conflicting feeling of wanting to be happy to see him. Unfortunately, nothing can override what he did and his actions that followed the moment he pulled off his mask and revealed who he truly was.

We both stop dead in our tracks, frozen as the past crashes into the present. As if we had thought the other dead, only to find them alive and well.

Neither of us make a move to turn away. God knows I’m not giving him that kind of power. If someone is going to cower, it won’t be me.

His mouth hangs open like he forgot how to use his jaw. “Layla?”

“I’m surprised you remember my name.” My tone is sharp and unapologetically bitchy. And I don’t care. Not even a little bit.

“Of course, I remember. You’re my daughter.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “If I’m your daughter, then that would make you my father. But as far as I’m concerned, you lost that title the day you left and never looked back.”

He sighs like he’s fed up. “Look, I can explain.”

“I’d love to hear it. In fact, I’ve wondered for the last fifteen years.”

It’s not the response he expected. The last time he saw me I was a teenager. I was also more timid, respectful, and kind. Now I’m a grown-ass adult. One that doesn’t back down and gets paid to argue for a living. He has no idea what shit storm he’s walked into.

After a brief silence as he fumbles to find the right words, I clear my throat, impatient. “I’m waiting for this dazzling explanation you say you have.”

“Marriage is harder than you think.” He looks at my hand for any evidence of a wedding band, and sees my hand bare. “You don’t have any clue how hard it can be.”

“And fatherhood? Was that so hard you had to walk away from it too?”

“I didn’t want to. I just…I had to.”

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