Page 74 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
I hope one day you can forgive me.
Live, Leila.
With all the love I never knew how to show,
Dad.
I folded the letter slowly,allowing the words of my father to settle over me. They felt like an old wound finally getting air. I hadn’t even known I was waiting for an apology. But there it was, tucked into every sentence, filled with regret and love and everything he never said while he was alive.
And it broke me a little.
Because underneath the anger, the hurt, the history…I’d still wanted his love. Still craved his approval. Still craved the memory of who he used to be.
I pressed the letter to my chest and closed my eyes.
My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my back pocket to see.
It showed Victor Vaughn.
I stared at the name for a moment. He’d texted earlier, something about dinner and “no pressure”. Now he was calling.
I hesitated, thumb hovering over the answer button.
Then, I hit it.
“Hey,” I said, surprised at how steady my voice sounded.
“Hey.” His voice was warm. “Hope I’m not catching you at a weird time.”
I glanced at the letter. “No, you’re not.”
“Okay, great. You didn’t reply to my text, so I assumed you didn’t see it. Maybe it’s better to ask in person than over text. Lunch the other day was nice. So, I was thinking we could do dinner. I found thislittle spot on the Upper East Side of the Bronx. Nothing fancy. But the garlic bread? Might ruin your life.”
I opened my mouth to say no. The word was right there, sitting on the edge of my tongue. Because no had become a reflex. A shield. A way to keep the world at arm’s length.
And then I remembered the letter.
My father’s words rang in my mind. You’ve been surviving. But I want you to live.
Victor had been nothing but good to me. Plus, he was just asking for dinner. And I had turned down his invitation to the Manhattan gala the last time. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be a little more…approachable this time.
“I guess I could use a taste of life-ruining bread right now.”
“So that’s a yes?” he asked.
“Yes, it is.”
“How about Monday night? Say, seven p.m.?”
I had a meeting with Elena earlier that day to go over some of the wedding plans, but it shouldn’t run past five.
“Seven p.m. Monday sounds perfect,” I said.
“Wonderful. I can’t wait.” He paused. “And Leila?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you picked up.”
