Page 61 of The Single Dad Project

“I have pictures,” Flo said, deliberately flattening her tone. But it belied the tangled emotions twisting inside her. Concealed the gnawing need to lash out. “Moe and Dad made sure I received them and all her other things that were left behind.”

Okay, yes, that was a jab and from the slight ducking of his head as he looked away from her, it landed. She expected satisfaction to bloom in her chest, but...it didn’t. Shame plummeted like a heavy boulder to the pit of her stomach. She’d been raised better, been taught better than to deliberately hurt people. Even if they deserved it.

And Noah more than deserved it.

“Good,” he murmured. “You were very young when we—” he paused, and his mouth firmed “—lost her, so your memories are probably not as strong or reliable as mine. I would hate for you to not have anything of her, anything to know her by.”

I could’ve had you instead of a box of records, books and pictures to tell me about her, to ensure my memories didn’t fade and to give me new ones.

The accusation damn near hummed on her tongue, eager to be lobbed at him. But she restrained herself. Instead, she pushed off the post and paced farther away from him, needing the space. This anger, confusion and...griefwrestling inside her was altering her into a person she didn’t know, didn’t like. A bitter, resentful person who needed to swipe at this man and deliver tiny barbs that would leave him in the same kind of pain he’d inflicted on her.

Hurt people...hurt people.

How many times had she heard that saying? How many times had she nodded in agreement? But only now, in this moment, did she truly grasp the full weight of the meaning.

Inhaling a deep, cleansing breath, she briefly closed her eyes and released the air from her lungs. Slowly, she turned back around to face Noah.

“You said you need to speak with me. What about?” she asked.

He nodded, clearing his throat. His unease skated across his expression, and the slight hunch of his shoulders telegraphed his awkwardness.

“I’m sorry. I’m rambling.” He shook his head, his mouth twisting into a rueful smile. “I’m nervous seeing you again after so long. In my head, I imagined how this would go. Had my whole speech planned out and even your reaction to it. But now?” Shaking his head again, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Reality is nothing like your dreams.”

She was a living witness to the truth in that statement.

Blowing out a breath, he continued, “A million different times I’ve wanted to call you, reach out—”

“But you sent cards instead. I’m guessing wherever you’ve been all these years, phones don’t work.”

“I didn’t think you would want to hear from me,” he explained. Made excuses. “And after so much time passed, I believed inserting myself into your life would only be confusing for you.”

“Bullshit.” The curse exploded from her, but not on a shout. Still, the word echoed between them as if she had screamed it. “Those are nothing but excuses. When I was ten, fifteen, even eighteen, they might’ve worked. But not now. So please don’t insult me with them.”

She thought of Jussy. Remembered the pieces of the phone conversation she’d overheard between Adam and his ex-wife as she’d passed by on her way to the bathroom. Of Adam begging her to be a parent, to be present for her daughter. Anger had ignited behind her sternum and wasn’t snuffed out by the time she returned to the living room or when Adam joined her and Jussy. Flo had been Jussy. And now, standing here across from Noah, she and Jussy could be twins. Connected by a selfish, neglectful parent full of bullshit excuses.

“I don’t mean to make excuses, Flo, and I’m sorry if it came off that way. But I honestly didn’t think you wanted me to be a bigger part in your life after a while. Yes, I didn’t call you, but I also didn’t hear from you, either. You never responded to my cards, so neither of us reached out—”

“Are you kidding me?” she snapped. “Now I’m partly to blame for you disappearing for twenty years? I didn’t keep up my end?” With a laugh that abraded her throat, she flicked a hand toward her chest. “Iwas the child,youwere the adult. No, not just any adult. My father. It wasn’t on me to stick around. It wasn’t on me to parent. It wasn’t on me to keep the lines of communication open past the biannual card. Hell, Hallmark did more talking to me than you did.”

“Flo,” he said, holding a hand out, and though she noted the regret and sadness in his gaze,too muchbubbled inside her.

Too much of her own hurt, grief and acidic anger.

“No.” She backed away from the threat of that hand. It stirred twin yet warring urges inside her. Avoid it at all costs. Clasp it close and try to glean a connection to her biological mother. Try to recapture a time when she’d...belonged.

Youdobelong. You’re a Dennison, dammit. Loved, accepted and valued.

If she knew it wouldn’t make her look as if she was losing all control, Flo would’ve clapped her palms over her ears to trap that assurance in her head. To block out the doubt that this man’s appearance agitated.

“No,” she repeated, softer this time, but no less forceful. Giving him a wide berth, she edged toward the front door. “I can’t do this. Not now.”

“Flo, please give me a minute to explain.” He scrubbed a hand down his weathered face. “To start over again and try not to make a damn mess of...”

But she shook her head, cutting him off.

“This is too much right now. I need space. And I know you can give me that. You’ve been a pro at it over the years.”

Jerking open the screen door, she shoved back inside the inn and strode for the kitchen. Even the notes of Justine’s high, happy voice alongside Moe’s lower, more soothing one couldn’t sweep away the noxious mix shoving against her chest with brutal fists.

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