Page 41 of Reconnected Hearts
Ican’t believe my eyes. I simply cannot believe it. I must be dreaming. I must be in some faraway land where happy endings are the norm and fate is kind.
My father is not the man—the husband—I recall him to be.
He is happy, undeniably so, and when he looks at his blushing bride, Marta, he is brimming with love. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen my father in love. It’s truly a jarring thing to experience. It’s like it’sconsuminghim. He seems properly obsessed with her, refusing to leave her side for even a moment. As they exchange their vows...I know I’ll never forget this moment. These words. Ones I never thought I’d hear my father say to someone.
“Marta,” my father gushes, “My whole life, I have felt incomplete, and I never even knew it. I spent day after day in the same rut, but you pulled me out of it. You showed me that there is so much more to life. You taught me what love is. So, my darling, I vow that, for as long as I live, I will return that same love and dedication back to you so that someday I might show you even a fraction of what you’ve shown me.”
The foundation of my entire world has been rattled. My whole life, I heard comment after comment from my mother about how my father doesn’t really care about anything. He’s a heartbreaker. A user. He represents what all men believe deep down: that women are disposable things.
I don’t think that’s true anymore.
My father has changed. The man whom I’ve centered my entire human belief system around haschanged. He is kind. He loves her. He really, really loves her. Not only that, but also he said itout loudin front of his entire extended family and friends. I didn’t even think my father knew what the wordlovemeant.
How strange.
How unnerving.
How eye-opening.
“Thank goodness you made it in time!” Marta tells me at the reception, absolutely glowing in her pale pink dress. She’s beautiful, with shoulder-length curls tumbling like a waterfall out of a wild braid. She wears the most vibrant smile I’ve ever seen.
I have the offhanded thought that I think I’d like to look as radiant as she does some day.
“We were so worried you wouldn’t be here,” she continues. “And I just had to meet you before the ceremony. Of course, I feel like I already know you. Your father never stops singing your praises.”
I blink in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” Marta gushes. “He goes on and on about his genius daughter. The first one in the whole family to go to college! And he justloveshow strong-willed you are. He says you take after him in that department.”
I’m completely taken aback. I sort of always thought that my father was disappointed in me. Like Marta said, I’m the only Marino to pursue higher education. I’m the only one to leave the family—to go out and make something of myself. I assumed he’d wanted me to stay. He never said so, but he’s never said he’sproudof me either. What was I supposed to think?
“I was wondering where my two favorite ladies had gotten to.” My dad takes Marta’s side, resting his palm on the small of her back, and smiles brightly at me. There’s a faint pink blush to his cheeks that I can’t stop staring at. I never knew my father was capable of changing colors like that. “How are you feeling, Luce? Not too tired from all of the traveling, are you?”
If only he knew.
“No, I’m alright, Dad.”
He frowns sympathetically and I can just tell that there’s a dad talk coming my way—he and my mom should team up on one of these parent confrontations sometime. If they’re this good solo, they would be incredible if they tag-teamed it.
“Are you sure? You’ve seemed off since you got here.”
I wave him off, cursing myself for letting my inner turmoil become so obvious. “Really, everything’s fine. The chaos stressed me out for a bit, but I’m good now.”
My dad doesn’t seem convinced, but he nods, nonetheless. He parts with Marta for just long enough to press a kiss to the top of my head, then he joins her once more and they walk off into the crowd, mingling as they go. They really do make a cute couple. She’s just the slightest bit taller than he is, but he still makes a point of putting his arm around her shoulders.
I imagine what it would feel like to fit so perfectly with a person.
But then, I don’t have to imagine. Iknow. I remember exactly how Noah fits next to me, like a puzzle piece clicking into place. He’s my missing part, the one person who can make my heart swell just by looking at him. It hits me like a train.
I miss him.
No, I don’t miss him. Ican’tmiss him.
After everything I did and everything I put him through, I’m not allowed to miss him.
And yet, the pit in my stomach is growing by the second.
More than anything, I want him to walk through the door. I want him to come right to me, like there’s no one else in the room but us. I want him to sit next to me and laugh with me, pointing out all the old ladies in their stuffy dresses.
