Page 91 of The Love Ambush
“Gentry,” a booming voice fills the quiet room. “There you are.”
I grab Sophie and Emily’s hands and spin to face my father for the first time in nearly three years.
He looks almost exactly the same, like the years have taken no toll on him at all. His hair is still light brown, and his face is unlined by age as he smiles and opens his arms like he expects me to hug him.
So many feelings hit me all at once. I thought I was prepared for this moment by seeing him in the crowd, but that was nothing compared to seeing him face to face. I hate him, and I love him, and I want him to hug me and tell me everything’s going to be okay. My eyes burn, but I swallow hard.
I will not fall apart when my sisters need me.
“Hi, Dad,” I say, squeezing Sophie’s hand tight and wrapping an arm around Emily’s shoulders.
“Daddy,” Emily shouts. She slips out from under my arm and races right into our father’s arms. When he left, she was inconsolable. She was only eleven and a total Daddy’s girl.
At fourteen, Sophie had more room for anger at our father’s abandonment, but she’d been sad in her own way.
“Emily?” Dad says, looking to me for help as he hugs his own daughter.
I give him a slight nod, because Emily doesn’t need to know he didn’t recognize her immediately.
“He’s really here?” Sophie asks, her voice tight.
I look over to see her eyes glassy with tears, and I let her go. She walks slowly to our father, like maybe she still doesn’t believe he’s really here, and joins in the hug with Emily. I want to pull them back, to warn them not to trust his promises or his charm, but they won’t listen. They remember the best parts of him, and I don’t want them to forget those parts.
I also don’t want to come between them if Dad really has changed.
I’ll stay close to be here for them if he hurts them and maybe, if I’m vigilant enough, I can save them from being hurt at all.
But I have to try, because it’s clear Emily and Sophie need their father. No matter how much I hate it, I have to be nice to him for their sakes.
Dad pushes the girls out to arm’s length, holding them by one shoulder each. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you two. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Then why did you leave?” Sophie asks, her voice choked.
“I didn’t have any choice about that,” he says. “I thought I was doing what was best for you kids and your mother. I had no idea she wasn’t in your life anymore.” He steps back, chest out. “But I’ve got good news. I’m moving to Catalpa Creek, and I’m going to be here for you.” He looks over at me. “All three of you.”
My heart drops so hard I feel faint. What the actual hell? “You’re just dropping everything and moving to Catalpa Creek?”
“Brodie says you need me,” he says, arms around my sisters. “I’ll have to find a new job and sell our house back in Wyoming, but it’ll be worth it to help you out, Gentry.”
He waits, smile huge, like he expects me to run into his arms too, or at least thank him. I don’t do either. I don’t trust him. Not yet.
“Where are you going to stay?” It comes out harsher than I intended, but I need to know exactly what I’m in for here.
“With my family, of course,” Dad says. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you, kiddo?”
Even Emily and Sophie look unsure about this development, but we have the room for him at the house, and I can’t exactly insist on my own father staying at a hotel. No matter how much I want to.
“Sweetie,” the woman I’d seen my father with earlier teeters over on sky-high heels, two glasses of champagne in her hands. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Dad spins with my sisters under his arms to face the woman. “Trisha, baby. These are my daughters. Girls, this is my wife, Trisha.”
I stare, shocked. I’d already assumed they were dating, but married? She’s got to be in her late twenties at the oldest, and my father is sixty. He’s almost twenty years older than my mother, so it’s hardly surprising to see him with a younger woman, but this young?
“Gentry,” Dad says. “Get over here and meet your stepmother.”
I want to run. I want to run away and hide in a corner with my head in my hands and pretend none of this is happening. Unfortunately, I don’t have that option. I have to be responsible.
So I walk over and shake Trisha’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” I say with a smile I hope doesn’t look as forced as it feels. “When did you and Dad get married?”
