Page 103 of The Girl I Once Loved

“Just don’t tell Mom,” I giggle.

“Don’t tell Mom what?” our mother asks, reappearing next to us and handing Daisy her sugar water.

“Oh, nothing. I was just telling Sky how I fully plan to consummate my marriage with my hot-as-hell husband on our drive back to our reception,” Daisy taunts after drinking her water.

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus, girl, but must you be so crass all the time?” my mother admonishes, but there isn’t a hit of accusation in her tone.

“Well, you did ask, Mom,” I chime in with a laugh.

“You two girls will be the death of me,” our mother singsongs, pride laced in every word.

We all look at each other, the sense of love and peace evident in our individual stares.

“I love you girls so much. I could not be prouder of my girls.”

“We love you too, Mom,” I stutter, feeling overwhelmed with the weight of such unconditional love packed in such a small room.

It’s the gentle knock on the door that pulls us away from breaking down and bawling our eyes out just as Daisy predicted.

“You girls about ready?” Curt asks, poking his head inside the room. “Jesus, Mother, and Joseph,” he gawks, walking inside. “But you are a sight to behold, Daisy.”

“Curt? Are you crying right now?” Daisy asks when Curt begins to sniffle as he eyes my sister up and down.

“No, no. Just allergies,” he quickly defends, wiping away at the stray tears that cling to his cheeks.

“Right,” I tease, giving his arm a squeeze. “You Fontaine men hide it well, but you're nothing but teddy bears underneath that alpha facade.”

“Why do you think I married him?” my mother gloats proudly.

As I look in the room, and feel all the love that lies in it, I also instantly feel Noah’s absence and how he should be here too.

“Noah’s already at the altar next to a very antsy groom,” Curt explains, as if reading my thoughts. “So is this wedding happening or not? Just say the word and we can make a run for it. I can get the car running in less than two minutes.” He wiggles his brows at my sister.

“There will be no running,” I reprimand, slapping Curt’s forearm. “Daisy’s got this. Don’t you, babe?”

“You bet your sweet ass I do,” Daisy exclaims, head held high, her previous cold feet no longer in sight. “Go on, sis, and start the show. I have a husband waiting for me.”

“About damn time,” Curt exhales, relieved, revealing that he’s one hundred percent on board with this marriage even after he offered the bride-to-be a means of escape.

“You never fooled me, Dad.” I poke his arm before making my own retreat to the hall to start this wedding.

“Allergies, my ass! What did you say to the man, Skylar?! I can’t go out with you crying like that. Pull yourself together, dude!” I hear my sister shout and laugh behind me.

And that’s when it dawns on me: I just called Curt dad.

It just came out.

Maybe it was because I was still riding high off the special moment that me, my sister and mother just shared, that calling Curt dad just flowed off my tongue like I’ve been calling him that all his life.

Truth be told, Curt has been more of a father to me and Daisy than Grant has ever been. Though his apathy towards us used to be a sore spot for me, it doesn’t hurt as much now. Grant gave us what he could, what he was capable of giving anyone. There was a limit to his love and attention. It didn’t make him a bad person, just a bad father.

Curt stepped up to fill that role without even asking for the title.

If anyone should bear the honor of being called our dad, then I know of no better man than him.

“Is she ready?” Lucy, the wedding planner the Monroes brought in all the way from New York City to organize this shindig, asks.

I give her the thumbs up to start the show and watch as the woman gives the order into her earphones. Not a second later, the wedding march begins to sing out in the cathedral, coaxing the wedding guests to get up from their seats.

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