Page 77 of All We Could Still Have

“I don’t understand why my mother didn’t tell you she was pregnant.”

Hank wrung his hands. “Gianna hated me after what I did. I can’t blame her.”

“Weren’t you angry when you found out?”

“I was, but I understood why Dom did it. He was trying to protect Gianna. My ego exploded after I got drafted. All this money started coming in, and women, groupies—I guess you call them puck bunnies now—they threw themselves at me. In every city I played, they’d hang out by the locker room after the game, just waiting for us. It was a crazy time.”

The glass door slid open, and Arianna walked across the deck carrying a platter of pita bread and hummus. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Hank watched her with an expression similar to the one my mother had in the photo when she was looking at him. “My life changed when I met Arianna,” he said. “She tamed me.”

“Tamed and trained.” She winked.

Hank waited until she stepped back inside and closed the door behind her. “I’d like to think I would have done right by your mother, but the punk kid that I was, who knows? I just wish Gianna had told me and I’d had the chance to do the right thing.”

“I don’t understand how you all worked at the restaurant together. How could you be around my dad after what he did?”

“At first, it wasn’t easy, but it was important to me to be around you. Make sure you were okay. Arianna didn’t want kids, and I never pushed her, but I wanted them. So when I found out about you, that I had a daughter, I was ecstatic.”

Hank Pendleton is my father.The realization hit me all at once. My head spun as I tried to make sense of it. Exhausted, I sank to the couch next to him and felt tears in my eyes. I wasn’t sure if they were for Hank or me.

“I didn’t want to stay mad. Anger eats you up, Nikki. It will destroy you if you let it. Forgiveness is where the power is.” He leaned toward me as he spoke. I felt as if he was giving me advice to forgive my parents for the secret they had kept from me.

“It’s a lot to take in,” I said.

“I’ve always wanted to tell you. I’m glad you know now.” He sat up straighter, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “After what happened with your mom and Dom, the accident, it seemed more important that you know.”

Guilt over the way I’d treated Hank these past years bubbled up in my throat. I’d cast him as the bad guy, but he was also a victim. My father and my mother had stolen so much from him, taken his chance to be a parent.

“I know I can never replace your dad, but I hope we can have a meaningful relationship. That someday you won’t think of me as the asshole who shut down DeMarco’s Diner.”

“I’m sorry, Un—” I stopped because it didn’t feel right to call him Uncle Hank anymore. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you about therestaurant. I so badly wanted to keep the diner running because it was the only way I could carry on a piece of my parents.”

Hank shifted so that he faced me. “You and Dana, the kind young women you’ve become. The people you touch through love and caring. That’s their legacy, not the restaurant.”

Chapter 45

Aunt Izzie stood in her foyer, staring out the screen door, as if she had been expecting me. She stepped onto her front landing before I slid out of my car. The late-afternoon sun cast a shadow on half her face, or maybe I was just seeing the dark and light sides of her. For my entire life, she’d always been there for me. She was the caretaker when my parents were busy at the restaurant and the anchor who kept me moored after their accident. Looking at her now, though, I felt like she had betrayed me, and I didn’t know if I could trust her.

“How did it go with Hank?” Her voice vibrated with nervous energy.

“How do you think it went?” She recoiled as if my harsh tone had landed like a puck to the face. I marched up the walkway, pointing my finger at her. “How could you have kept that secret from me? I had a right to know.”

She widened her stance and placed her hands on her hips. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“You lied to me for my entire life.”

Across the street, the garage door rumbled open. Aunt Izzie’s twentysomething neighbors walked bicycles out onto their driveway and stared our way while adjusting their helmets.

“Let’s talk about this inside,” my aunt said in a hushed whisper. She turned on her heel, letting the screen door slam behind her.

I stormed up the stairs after her. Inside, she showed none of the defiance she had displayed outside. Cowering in the corner of the living room, she seemed like a version of herself that someone had unplugged. Her green eyes had lost their sparkle, and her olive complexion had been muted to a dull yellow. She slumped on the arm of the sofa as if she didn’t have the energy to lower herself all the way to the cushions.

I took pity on her, realizing that my parents had put her in an untenable position. They had been the ones who decided to live a lie, and she hadn’t wanted to expose it. I softened my voice. “Is it true that Hank’s my father?” I knew the answer, but I had to ask, hoping for a last-ditch miracle, like a hockey player making a desperate slap shot from behind his goal line in the final seconds of the game.

“Your biological father, yes, but Dom is your father in every way that matters.” Her voice shook, and I realized she’d been dreading this conversation since I’d found the photo album, if not for my entire life.

“You’re defending my da—you’re defending him now?”

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