Page 66 of Heart Strings
I affectionately nudge Aidan. “You did good.”
“I had a little help.”
After a flurry of photos, bubbles, and more tearful hugs,Lark and Callum ride into the countryside as husband and wife. The official end to the weekend’s festivities feels bittersweet. Some guests linger and chat while others head to checkout.
“I have a lot of packing,” I tell Aidan with a reluctant smile. “A bunch of Lark’s stuff she’s not taking on their trip, plus my own bag.”
“Ring me and I’ll give you a hand to the car when you’re ready.”
Every cell in my body aches to kiss him, but my mom pouncing on my love life is the last thing I need. I call on my sense of self-discipline and pull away. Will I ultimately need to do the same to protect my heart?
Before I can unlock my room, my dad corners me in the tapestry-lined hallway. “Cielito, what were you thinking for dinner? Someone told me they have amazing seafood at this waterfront bistro. I remember how you love that.”
“I don’t know,” I say, letting the exhaustion come through in my voice. “Whatever.”
I’ve masked it for my mom. For Lark. For Aidan. But I’m tired and scared and agitated, and my dad’s presence isn’t helping. Those test results brought all those ugly, helpless feelings right back to the surface, but worse: They reminded me that he couldn’t handle me sick. Why should I bother protecting his feelings when he couldn’t put mine before his own comfort when I was just a sick kid? And I’m sure this new attempt at spending time together will come to a swift end the moment I get sick again.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” I snap. He backs into the hallway. “Seafood is fine. Pick whatever you want.”
“Stop this resentment, Lo. Ever since you were little, you’ve held on to your anger so tightly. I can’t change the past, and I’m sorry for it, but I want to know the woman my own daughter has grown into. You’ve practically cut me out of your life—”
“Oh,” I scoff incredulously. “You feel hurt that I’m cutting you out of my life? You cut me out when you couldn’t handle whatIwas going through.”
“I felt like a failure. I couldn’t even donate marrow to you. The only time I felt useful was when I was working, so that’s what I did.”
“Why have you waited so long to say any of this?”
“How can I ever start to make it right if you won’t give me a chance?”
“Just give me some space, please? You’re usually pretty good at leaving me alone when I’m emotional.”
My dad’s mouth pops open, but he doesn’t have a rebuttal. We both know I’m right. Guilt prickles in my chest, but if anyone is going to be the target of my ire, it’s him.
Blowing up at my mom would only set off her internal alarms that something is wrong, sending her into Helicopter Parent DEFCON 1. Lark doesn’t deserve any of my negativity to begin her marriage. And I’ve just started to test out forgiveness when it comes to Aidan. I don’t want to go backward with him. Although, if I had to pick a runner-up for my dad, I wouldn’t mind smashing one of Aunt Sharon’s crystal bowls to banish some of mybad vibes.
Fuming, I jam the keycard into the lock and shove the door open. It shuts as my dad says something—I can’t make out his words, but it doesn’t matter. He leaves. He always leaves. So he might as well do it again, now that I want him gone.
Packing up the bridal suite to an “auditory Xanax” playlist takes longer than I expected. It’s all right. Making myself useful to someone else without actually beingaroundanyone else is exactly what I need right now. I pore over the checklist of items, ensuring nothing gets left behind in Lark’s haste to make their flight to Barcelona.
The door of the bridal suite clicks shut behind me as I lug the duffel bag over my shoulder and roll Lark’s suitcase behind me with my overnight bag balanced on top. I press the elevator button and hear Aidan’s soft admonishment.
“Hey, hey, you said you’d text me to help with these, then I look up and see you buried in luggage from the lobby.” He’s a little breathless, having rushed up the stairs to alleviate my burden.
“I got it,” comes out of my mouth even as I reluctantly release my death grip on the strap.
The elevator arrives with a ding and we step inside.
“Just because you can do it doesn’t mean I’m cool with you doing it on your own. You can accept help, you know.” Aidan smooths a hand over my bare arm. “What happened?”
“Where to begin?” I mutter. I’m furious. This health scare couldn’t have come at a worse time. I’m under a ton of pressure in my clinical rounds. Surrounded by family members who send my blood pressure skyward. My fear of abandonment is rearing its head, warring with my newfound hope that a future with Aidan is possible.
I should never have been given access to those results without the guidance of my doctor, either. Add it to the list.
Aidan’s arms curl around me. I feel so brittle. I tell him what I feel able to share.
“I don’t know if I can ever forgive my dad. He left me whenI needed him. I understand he wanted to provide for us, but he made it a point to be away, even when it interfered with big events. It makes it really hard to play nice with him now. He’s only back at his own convenience, to assuage his own conscience about my childhood. He’s only here because he thinks I don’t need him.”
