Page 74 of Unsure in Love
“Damn it,” I hissed, sniffling and dashing away a tear. “I can’t listen to any more of this.” Springing to my feet so fast that Henry jumped, I scurried to the door. “I really can’t. You should go.”
He stood up, eyebrows meeting over his nose. “But we haven’t even talked. I mean really talk.”
“You know, I thought I wanted answers, but I don’t think I do anymore.”
“You’re not giving me a chance here, and that’s unfair.”
“Oh, really? And you have the right to cry about being treated unfairly?” I fired back.
That gave Henry something to think about. The room went deafeningly quiet again. With each breath I took, I practically inhaled the tension hovering between us.
Finally, he said, “You’re right. What I did to you, the girls, and Esmie wasn’t fair.” His shoulders dropped, and he combed his fingers through his hair. He’d done that several times since he got here. Maybe I made him as anxious as he made me.
He shrugged. “Saying the words isn’t enough but, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”
His apology lingered between us for a moment before I let it sink in. My lower lip quivered as I struggled to contain my emotions, then I gave up the battle and allowed my tears to fall. Maybe that was really all I wanted from my father, an apology.
“I’m scared.” My voice had never sounded so tiny and wispy. Showing vulnerability was something I’d worked hard almost my entire life to avoid.
It was no surprise that Henry looked absolutely baffled. “Of… of me?” He frowned.
A humorless laugh escaped as I sagged against the door I almost stormed through. “Of myself, actually.” Staring beyond Henry, through the window, I explained, “I’m afraid I’ll push him away, and it’s all your fault.”
When my gaze landed back on my estranged father, the emotional dam that broke earlier completely shattered and everything came pouring out. “It’s hard for me to trust because you left. After what you did to Mom, she lost it. She taught me, Lucy, Tessa, April, and Ruby that we shouldn’t trust any man because they’ll eventually abandon us like you did. She warned us to never get into a relationship.” Blinking back more tears, I added, “I’ve lived by that crazy rule for most of my life until…” I met the man who was perfect for me, and I was afraid to get any closer to him than I already had.
Henry blinked, his mouth falling open.
I nodded at his unanswered question. “I told you Mom lost it after you left.”
His gaze skated away from mine, and he swallowed hard.
It was hard to gauge what his expression meant. Did he regret leaving? Did he have any love left for his first wife? “She got worse after the divorce papers arrived.” Staring at him with disdain, I said, “You couldn’t even break up with her in person. One thing is for sure, Mom might have lost a few of her marbles, but she was never a coward like you.” A fresh stream of tears rolled down my cheeks.
“She worked hard and kept a roof over our heads. She did the best she could, even when she could barely function with a broken heart.” I sighed. “I admired that.” My voice lowered to a whisper. “And I regret never telling her.” Mom and I probably had the rockiest relationship out of the five of us. Maybe because I was always the one to call her out on her shit… just like she’d call me out on mine.
“I didn’t…” Henry shook his head.
“What, you didn’t know how hard it was for her? For us?” I laughed. “So, what? If you had, would you have reappeared?”
His silence was enough of an answer. Rolling my eyes, I walked to the windows to peer out. I felt ridiculous for baring my soul to a man I barely knew and also for allowing my mother to do such a number on me. Still, I refused to shut up. Not bothering to look back at Henry, I shared, “You and Mom really screwed me up, you know? Now that I’ve met an incredible man who has already proved that I can trust him, I might ruin everything.”
“Cassandra—”
“It’s because of what you did to me, Henry,” I snapped. “I mean, logically, I should know better.” Glaring at him over my shoulder, I said, “I should know that all men aren’t like you.”
At that, he ducked his head and sighed. If he felt ashamed… good. Henry was proving to be nothing as I fantasized. I had this stupid idea in my head that he was a stand-up guy and had a really good reason for leaving, and he’d missed his girls and had every intention of returning to us.
I remember once when I was around nine, April and I sat in the backyard staring up at the darkening sky, discussing our absent father. April, ever optimistic, wove this dramatic tale about Dad being a spy. She imagined he was caught and held as a prisoner in another country and that’s why he couldn’t come back to us.
I, hella sarcastic and skeptical even at nine, had let out the derisive snort to combat all derisive snorts and told April that all those fairytales she read had gotten to her head. Secretly, I’d held on to her theory for dear life, thinking that, yes, something dramatic like being held prisoner must be the reason Dad still hadn’t come back.
April’s theory had given me an ounce of comfort for a while. However, that all faded when I got older and knew for sure our father was less likely a patriotic spy and probably more of a crappy human being. That memory of me and April made me look at Henry and let out one of my derisive snorts.
A spy being held prisoner my ass. If only April knew that he simply didn’t come back because he and Mom argued a lot so he decided to just start a whole other family.
“I know Damian isn’t like you,” I said. “Yet, I can’t stop thinking about him disappearing from my life after our child is born.” The deep-rooted fear seemed as if it would never fade. “I don’t want to push him away.” My voice shook, but I was beyond caring about revealing too much of my emotions to a stranger.
I heard Henry shuffle closer in my periphery. He was staring out the window too. Maybe he thought I was crazy. Perhaps I had lost my mind since I was confiding in a man who abandoned me. Sniffing, I decided to put Henry out of his obvious discomfort. “Don’t worry, I’m not fishing for comfort or advice from you. I just…” I shrugged. “I guess I needed to get some things off my chest, and I couldn’t really confide in anyone else. Not right now, anyway,” I mumbled.