Page 122 of Love is a Game

She nods. “Yes, there was a link to an article about…hmm, I feel like it was the fake leather story. Can you really make leather frommushrooms? Gosh, what will they think of next?”

I barely hear her. My mind is spinning. I combed through Mom’s emails after she passed, but only for bills and subscription links—never for something like this.

Laurie is already scrolling through her phone. “I save everything,” she mutters. “I’ve got my kids’ baby teeth in a kitchen drawer—don’t ask why—I even hoard stuff online. I downloaded everything from Hotmail days, for heaven’s sake.”

“But she never told me.” My voice is strained.

Dad tips his head. “Sure about that?” His voice is gentle, but the question lands heavy.

I lift my gaze.

“Caitlyn told me she did ask you,” he says carefully. “When you were twenty-one. And again, a few years later. If you wanted to meet up with me.”

I open my mouth to argue, then stop. My shoulders sag as I drop my eyes to the table.

Because I remember.

I remember the conversation. I remember shaking my head, telling Mom it was too late. That I didn’t need him. That I was fine. And the fact that he married Laurie and was a stepdad to her kids? That made me hate him more.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I didn’t know she was actually communicating with you.”

“Penny. I don’t blame you one bit for saying no.” Dad’s voice is thick with emotion. “You have to understand, I’m just so damn proud of you, no matter what. You’re stubborn, just like your mom. And so creative and talented. You made a life for yourself beyond anything I could have imagined. You didn’t need me.”

“Apparently, I did, Dad.” My voice cracks, and fresh tears rise. “Because it still hurts. Even when I understand why—even when I tell myself I get it—it still fucking hurts.”

“Sweetie.” Laurie’s green eyes soften. “I know it must. And I get it. That’s actually why I didn’t go to the funeral. I was worried about me being there…well, that it might somehow have been the wrong thing to do and upset you more. But if losing your mom so tragically has taught us anything, it’s that we have to love the people in our lives while we still have the chance.”

I nod as she reaches across the table to squeeze my hand.

“And, most importantly, Penelope?” she questions sharply. “To do that, you have to love yourself first.”

“Sounds so easy.”

My words are encased in bitterness as I consider all the mindfulness stuff I’ve tried, the CBT sessions…the wristband I used to ward off bad thoughts that gave up the battle.

“It’s not,” Dad mutters. “But I didn’t start turning my life around until I learned to accept myself. Because hating yourself? It’s like being trapped in a cage. You’ll do anything—drugs, booze, whatever it takes—just to escape for a while.”

He exhales heavily. “But when you start believing you deserve better, when you stop seeing yourself as some worthless screw-up…that’s when you get moments outside the cage. And eventually, if you fight for it hard enough, the cage disappears.”

He glances at Laurie, and for a moment, his tough exterior cracks, something vulnerable slipping through. “And when you finally get there, when you crawl your way out of the dark—life doesn’t just look different. It is different. Like you never realized how damn bright the world could be. How things you thought were out of reach…suddenly aren’t. And you wake up every day counting your blessings, wondering how the hell you almost missed it.”

I sit transfixed by his vulnerability. And I so want to believe him—that it’s possible to shed the weight of insecurity and self-doubt. To stop carrying the past like a stone in my chest. But my cynicism still lingers, stubborn as ever.

“So, that whole screw-up thing—you think that’s from your side of the family then?” I ask, only half-joking.

Dad barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, my darling, no doubt about it.”

His smile fades, something unguarded settling in its place. “And I’m sorry. With all my heart, I’m damn sorry, Penny. For everything I ever did to make you doubt yourself, to make you feel like anything less than enough. Because all you’ve ever been to me is perfect, Penny. The greatest achievement of my life.”

The words press against something fragile inside me.

And I don’t know if I can let them in.

Not yet.

But for the first time, I want to try.

Chapter 36

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