Page 42 of Worth the Wait

“You’re my baby girl. I like knowing what you’re up to.”

I watched as my sister sucked in a long breath before she started shaking her head. “I’m so sorry I never came back here.” She walked toward the couch and sat down softly, crossing her legs at the ankles as she turned to face him. “Are you mad at me?”

I sat next to her, half unsure if I should stick around for this conversation or not. But when Sarina reached out and put her hand on my leg, as if reading my mind, I knew that I should stay put.

“Of course I’m not mad at you,” our dad said gently.

“But I never came back,” she said again.

“I never went to New York either,” I added, hoping that she wouldn’t feel so alone in her decisions when I’d made the exact same ones as a kid.

“I didn’t understand at first,” our dad started to explain. “Not any of it. Your mother leaving. Taking you with her.” He shook his head slowly before raising his dark brown eyes to meet my little sister’s. “But I figured out pretty quick that your mother wasn’t ever going to leave New York, and you’d settled in like you belonged there.”

Sarina inhaled long and slow before blowing the breath back out and speaking again. “I did love it. Like, right away, I loved it. And I was in so many extracurriculars that I stopped even thinking about Sugar Mountain.”

Our dad leaned forward, his arms on his knees. “And that’s okay. I knew you were happy. But don’t think for one second that I ever stopped missing you or thinking about you.”

“I got your cards.” She smiled, and my head whipped in her direction so fast.

“What cards?” I asked.

“Dad never missed a birthday or a holiday. He sent cards every year,” she said, cocking her head to one side, as if amused. “You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t.”

I never realized how little we talked about my mother and my sister until this moment. It hadn’t ever felt weird. Maybe at first, but eventually, it was normal, not having them around, and like Sarina had said, I’d stopped thinking about them. Even though she and I had friended each other on social media once we were older, it felt more like observing an acquaintance’s life rather than a sibling’s. The emotional connection hadn’t been there, until now.

“I never wanted you to feel abandoned. I think that was my biggest concern”—his brow furrowed—“that you would somehow grow up thinking your dad didn’t love or want you.”

Sarina shook her head quickly; her hair fell into her eyes, and she brushed it away. “I honestly never thought that,” she said. “I’m not sure why because you obviously weren’t around.” She chuckled uncomfortably. “But I knew you loved me. And I knew you didn’t choose to leave. I don’t know.” She shrugged before adding, “I think I always knew if I needed you, you’d come running.”

“I don’t know how you knew that, but I’m really grateful that you did. Your mother must have done something right, raising you,” he said, and I choked on a laugh.

“I wouldn’t give her credit for Sarina’s personality or confidence. If anything, I feel like she grew up to be this amazing woman in spite of our mother,” I said, looking right at Sarina as I delivered the words.

“I know she’s a lot to deal with, but I’m used to her. And to be fair, she did give me a lot. She wanted me to have all the opportunities that she never had,” Sarina said before wincing. “No offense. That’s just what she used to say.”

“She really did hate it here,” my dad huffed out, his tone sounding more sad than anything else.

“It’s her loss,” I said matter-of-factly, and the irony was not at all lost on me.

I’d never once hated it in Sugar Mountain, but I’d still walked away for so-called opportunities that I believed couldn’t be found here. Was that even true?

“It is her loss,” my dad reiterated. “Honey, why don’t you show Sarina to her room? I’m sorry I can’t take your luggage up the stairs for you.”

“I have a room?” Sarina’s honey-brown eyes practically bugged out of her head as my dad laughed.

I’d missed that sound so much.

“Of course. You think I’d turn it into a sewing room or something?”

“I did try to turn it into a gaming room, but he wouldn’t let me,” I said, remembering the number of times I’d asked my dad if I could have her room and the same number of times that he’d told me no.

“You would.” She nudged my shoulder with her own, and we both pushed up from the couch to stand.

“I’m going to run up there,” Sarina said before disappearing.

“I guess we’ll be right back. Do you need anything?” I asked, hating seeing my dad in a cast. It was weird.

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