Page 107 of Becoming His Perfect Daddy
All those months ago, I’d told him I wanted us to be real, and I’d gotten my wish. Then I’d watched it come crashing down around me because I’d been too fucking scared to dive in, let him see my imperfections, my fears, my insecurities—and let him hold me through them. Let him tell me everything was going to be okay. As my Daddy, that was his job. One he wanted.
But I hadn’t let him in.
I just wished I’d realized I’d gotten everything I’d ever wanted before it slipped through my fingers.
***
“Heading home?” Henry asked some time later when I slid my third empty glass toward him. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, because I’d just been sitting here sipping this sparkling water, people-watching and drowning in my misery. I’d seen Henry in a flurry behind the counter during a rush of people wanting drinks and the way he leaned back against the bar when it slowed down. I’d noticed something in his eyes, too, especially when he glanced out at the crowd earlier . . . something like longing, I thought.
Or maybe I was projecting.
“I suppose.” But I made no move to stand up.
He eyed me as he wiped down some clean glasses during this current lull. “You don’t sound too sure about that.”
I sighed. “I’m not.”
Henry hesitated as he watched me, then he set the glass on the countertop and moved directly in front of my stool. “Look, maybe it’s none of my business, but I’m here if you want to talk.”
Tristan and the other guys had headed home awhile ago, so I was just sitting here by myself, pathetically alone. And after doing so for—I checked my phone; like two hours?—I realized Iwasready to talk.
As I glanced around the bar, I realized the place had started to clear out. How was it so late? Maybe I should just get home.
But as I saw Henry’s dark-blue eyes watching me, his words offering a sympathetic ear, I realized I wanted to take him up on it. I didn’t have anywhere better to be, anyway.
“Sam and I kind of had a fight.”
Henry reached for a bottle of amber beer and popped the cap off before taking a large swig. When I raised an eyebrow in question, he gulped down his mouthful and chuckled with little humor. “Seemed like this story would require beer.”
I huffed a derisive laugh. “Um, yeah.”
Henry took another swig, nodding at me to continue.
Straightening in my seat, I settled in to tell the sordid tale. To borrow Sam’s words from last month, this was gonna suck. “Sam accused me of stuffing down my emotions, of keeping him at arm’s length. Of not letting him in.”
Henry took another drink before replying. “Didyou keep him at arm’s length? Did you refuse to let him in?”
I jolted at the way he’d rephrased that second question, a harsher version that was truer than I wanted to admit. He was right. I’d refused. “Yes. God, I was an asshole.”
His eyes were clear and kind. “What happened?”
“Basically that. He accused me of not being all in, and because he was right, I had no defense, no way to refute it. So he left. Told me to come find him when I figured out how I felt.”
“And have you? Figured it out?”
I stared at the shellacked countertop, my fingers nervously tapping the glossy surface. “Yes.” My eyes flicked to his, and the softness I saw in them made me want to confess everything. “I love him, but I never told him.”
Henry just waited, and I realized that didn’t mean much without the full context, so the whole story came spilling out of me.
I didn’t give him all the details, but by the time I was done, he got the gist. He knew that Sam and I had talked online, started a semi-anonymous relationship. He’d already known that we’d kissed here at Mix It Up back in September because he was here when it happened, but now he knew that Sam had confessed to being my online admirer soon after. He knew that was when Sam told me he loved me. Months ago.
And he knew I’d never said it back.
I fell quiet, letting him process. He stared at me for several moments then took another sip of his beer before setting it on the bar top. “Why do you think you didn’t tell him?”
I frowned, scraping my thumbnail along the bar as I considered it. “I don’t know.”
Even without looking up, I could feel his eyes boring holes into me. “Yes, you do.”
