Page 80 of Make The Cut

“Stop.” I don’t want to hear about how he fell in love with a woman at least ten years his junior and also in a subordinate position to him. I don’t want to hear about how he betrayed my mom not for a workplace fling but for a true, lasting love affair. I don’t want to, because it’ll be too much of a threat if it’s true. It’ll mean that the vision I had in my mind of them having some sleazy dalliance in a bar or of my father just being bored one late night at work isn’t real. It’ll mean that they have something genuine and that it wasn’t just a one-night-stand.

It’ll be something that destroys any hopes I was still harbouring of him and my mom getting back together. And losing that hope will break something in me.

“Naoya, I never meant to hurt you.”

I just fell in love.

I fell in love that way, too. Slowly, steadily, creeping up on me until I didn’t realize it and I was in quicksand. That doesn’t make me like my dad, does it?

“I know,” I say, and to my surprise, I mean it. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“Naoya, you’ll always be my son. I may not be a great father, but you’ll always be my son.”

* * *

Hours before the Grammys begin, Poppy shows up in my dressing room with my outfit.

“Hey.” She shoves the garment bag at me.

I take it from her, enclosing my hand around hers. “Can we talk?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know,canwe?”

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t know you were an English teacher.”

“I am. And you failed my test.” Poppy glances down at our linked hands. “Let go of me.”

A sob works its way into her voice. I can’t let her go if she’s about to cry.

“Come in and we can talk.” When she still resists, I add, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” She sighs. “Don’t do this whole fake apology—“

“It’s not fake,” I snap. “Nothing between us has ever beenfake.”

Someone passes us in the hallway and she follows me into the dressing room, slamming the door shut behind us to avoid getting caught. I hang up the garment bag on the chair and shove my hands into my pockets to resist the urge to touch her, to pull her toward me, to kiss her and tell her that I’m sorry and I never want to watch her leave.

“Let’s hear it, then.” She stares at the tips of her stiletto heels. “Let’s hear your real apology.”

“Poppy,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I was scared. You’re right about that. I wasn’t scared about you finding out my past. I was scared that… Well, I was scared that there was something wrong with me. Something unlovable in me. Because if my dad couldn’t stick around, well, who could?”

“Naoya,” she says, something in her tone like a prayer, an admonition.

“I know… I know that’s not true. He didn’t leave us because he didn’t love us enough.” I shake my head. “He just said he loved her. He loved her, and maybe he loved my mom more, but I’ll never really know.

“But I know that if you give me the chance, I will love you as best as I know how, and I will love you as you need to be loved. I won’t try to clip your wings or stop you from doing what you love. I promise that I won’t try to keep anything from you again, or let anything as insignificant as the past get between us. I promise that if you forgive me, Red, I will spend the rest of my life coming up with new nicknames for you, and I will listen to you talk about fashion, and watch period dramas with you, and give you free rein of my closet.”

Shakily, I walk toward her, feeling like each step might land me in quicksand.

She looks up at me, biting back a smile. “I love you, too.”

I wrap my arms around her and press a kiss to her forehead, holding her against me so tightly that no one could ever pry us apart.

Someone hammers on the door. “Hey, is Naoya here? Our performance is starting in two hours, and I still haven’t seen him.”

Ryder.

We freeze. Poppy steps back, eyes wide.

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