Page 43 of Where She Belongs
“Dad,” she calls, approaching us with a fixed smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “They’re waiting for you at the head table. It’s almost time for your toast.”
Simon’s demeanor shifts instantly, all traces of malice hidden behind a paternal smile. “Of course, sweetheart. Just having a quick chat with Gabe here.”
“Save it for after dinner,” she says lightly, though I catch the warning in her tone. “Tonight’s about Tyler and me, remember?”
“How could I forget?” Simon presses a kiss to her cheek before moving away, but not before casting one final knowing look in my direction.
Once he’s out of earshot, Tristy turns to me with concern. “You okay? Dad can be... intense.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her, though I’m anything but. “Just wedding stress, I’m sure.”
She doesn’t look convinced but nods anyway. “Mom’s looking for you. And just so you know, I’ve got your back with this whole Instagram thing. My post is already turning the tide.”
“Thank you, Tristy,” I say, truly meaning it. “You’re handling this with incredible grace.”
She grins. “Years of dealing with internet trolls builds character. Now go find Mom—she looks like she needs you.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I make my way through the crowd to where Andrea stands by our table, her expression carefully neutral though I can see the tension in her shoulders. When she spots me, something flickers in her eyes—relief, perhaps, or worry, or both.
“Hey,” I say softly, reaching for her hand. To my relief, she doesn’t pull away. “You okay?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” she responds, her voice equally low. “The internet seems determined to paint you as the villain of the hour.”
“I’m more concerned about what you think,” I admit, searching her face.
She sighs, her fingers tightening slightly around mine. “I think social media is ridiculous, and I think Simon is enjoying this far too much.”
“He cornered you too?”
“Of course.” Her smile is tight. “Wanted to know if I’d seen the ‘evidence’ of your playboy ways. As if I haven’t known you for a decade.”
There’s something in her tone I can’t quite interpret—a defensive note that suggests she’s trying to convince herself as much as anyone else. Before I can probe further, the emcee announces it’s time to be seated for dinner.
We take our places, and I’m hyper-aware of the eyes on us from around the room—Andrea’s extended family, Tyler’s relatives, Simon watching with that calculating expression from the head table. For the first time, our pretense feels less like a casual charade and more like walking a high wire without a net.
“I’m sorry about all this,” I murmur to Andrea as the waiters begin serving the first course. “The last thing I wanted was to cause you or Tristy any embarrassment.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” she says firmly. “You weren’t doing anything wrong three months ago. We weren’t—” she pauses, lowering her voice further “—we weren’t actually together.”
“I know, but still.” I meet her gaze directly. “If I’d known then what I know now...”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Gabe?—”
But whatever she was about to say is cut off by the clinking of a glass. Simon stands at the head table, preparing to give his toast, and the room falls silent.
“For those who don’t know me,” he begins, voice carrying easily through the space, “I’m Simon Gaines, Tristy’s stepfather. When I first met this incredible young woman, she was twelve years old and determined to convince me that soccer was more important than homework.”
Polite laughter ripples through the room as he continues, painting a picture of family life that bears little resemblance to the reality I witnessed—one where he frequently missed Tristy’s games for “conferences” and dismissed her early interest in social media as frivolous.
“While I may not be her biological father,” Simon continues, his gaze finding Andrea in the crowd, “I’ve had the privilege of watching Tristy grow into the remarkable woman she is today, guided by her extraordinary mother.”
Andrea’s expression remains neutral, though I feel her tense beside me at the mention.
“Andrea,” Simon says, raising his glass slightly, “has always put Tristy first, making sacrifices few would understand to give her daughter every opportunity.” His smile turns reflective. “During our marriage, I was continually amazed by her dedication—to Tristy, to her patients, to building something that would outlast us all.”
Despite myself, I glance at Andrea, catching a flicker of genuine surprise in her expression. This unexpected praise from Simon seems to have caught her off guard.
“Though our paths have diverged,” Simon continues, his tone softening, “I will always be grateful for the years we shared raising this exceptional young woman.” His gaze shifts to Tyler. “And now, as she begins this new chapter with a young man clearly worthy of her, I can only offer my heartfelt blessing and the wish that your marriage be filled with the kind of love that endures even when circumstances change.”
