Waiting for Always (Beautiful Surrender #5)(11)
Author: Ava Claire

I whipped out my foundation and blush, attacking my cheeks and forehead until there was virtually no sign that I was falling apart. I lifted the sides of my mouth. This was an occasion for smiling, after all. Dad was having me over for dinner for the first time in almost a year.

I pulled on my blue cotton dress and slipped my feet into my brown sandals. I shut the lights off and tried to turn some happiness on—even though I knew this invitation was born out of worry. We’d been strictly business since I’d gotten back to Sacramento, just the way he liked it. I put on a grand show during business hours, smiled, gave killer pitches and impeccable presentations. I was the first one in the office and the last one to leave. And then last night Dad had poked his head in. He’d gruffly asked if I was free for dinner and I almost fell on the floor.

The drive to Arden Manor was swift and painless until I turned on Oak Drive. Panic gripped me as my car slowed to a crawl. I didn’t know that I had it in me to walk through the door and pretend that I wasn’t utterly broken. Shouldn’t going home bring me some measure of peace? The calm in the storm, an escape from the rest of the world?

When he invited me over, I could have sworn I saw the slightest hint of concern in his eyes. There was a spark of hope in me that maybe he was worried, that he would finally be the father I needed. I stamped out the hope before I was infected. Hadn’t I learned my lesson by now? How many times had he disappointed me? This was probably a celebratory dinner—not because I dodged a bullet with Logan, but because I was back at work, playing the role of dutiful daughter. It was the role I was born to play, after all. The only thing I had left.

I parked beneath the maple tree, gathering my confidence as I killed the engine. I’d get though the first course and claim I had a stomachache and bow out early. He’d get to pat himself on the back for putting forth minimal effort, and we could pretend that this half-ass relationship was something more than a farce.

I walked up the dimly lit pathway, not a leaf or blade of grass out of place. I planted both feet on the welcome mat and rang the doorbell.

I gasped when the door yanked open, like he’d been waiting and watching me from the window. If that wasn’t weird enough, he was smiling. And not the phony Colgate smile on all of the Kaleidoscope promotion materials. Something real that made my heart pound and my stomach flop.

"Is everything okay, Dad?"

"Of course!" The smile broadened. He was always so intense, the fierce lines of his face harshly angular. His blue eyes were like jagged icebergs that sank any attempts to come to him with anything but good news. His salt and pepper hair, usually stiff and slicked back, was relaxed, framing his face in gentle waves. He was even in a polo and jeans. I gawked at him, feeling overdressed.

He held open the screen door. "Come on in."

"Thanks," I offered awkwardly, stepping into the entryway. The smell of garlic and bread wafted into my nostrils and I could have melted on the spot. I glanced at him shyly, not sure if I should clap my hands together with delight or pinch myself. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Chicken Alfredo," he confirmed with a nod. His smile wavered slightly. "It’s still your favorite, I hope?"

I bit my lip to hide the tremor of happiness that rippled through me. He was the reason it was my favorite. I swore I could taste the love in every bite. I opened my mouth to tell him thank you when I heard the creaking of cabinets opening and closing.

I gave him a suspicious grin, putting it all together. The casual happiness, the nerves when he invited me to dinner—he was introducing me to someone! "We have company?"

The smile disappeared from his face. "Yes, but I should preface this by saying this is for your own good."

The pieces shifted, not lining up at all. "For my own good?" I brought a hand to my forehead, trying to dull the aching throb that resided behind my eyes. It always sprang to life when my dad walked into the room. "What’s going on?"

He said nothing, clearing his throat as he walked past me, heading toward the dining room. "There’s only one person I know of that knows you better than me, and that person is joining us for dinner."

Stacia couldn’t keep something like this quiet, which meant-

No.

He wouldn’t.

The throb engulfed my entire head, squeezing my brains until they oozed out of my ears.

He invited Jason to dinner.

My ex-boyfriend stepped into view, perfect blond hair with just the right amount of gel, coiffed like he was fresh from a hairstylist’s care. No polo, a black t-shirt instead, with jeans that made me think of danger and a motorcycle tearing up the asphalt. He was different, but there was the same painstaking engineering. The perfection that used to drive me wild but was now just boring and predictable.

His blue eyes cornered me like I was an escaped animal that needed to be put back in my cage. "Don’t freak out-"

"I guess you do know me," I snapped, nostrils flaring. "Because I’m about to freak the f**k out."

My father made a booming sound of displeasure. "Melissa Lauren—"

"No, Dad," I stopped the scold dead in its tracks. "You don’t get to wag your finger at me. The F word is warranted in this situation." I turned to him. The man who shared my DNA. The only parent I ever knew, who, at the end of the day, seemed to excel at making me feel like I was nothing. "You never lifted a hand to strike me, but your words, or lack thereof, and your actions, have hurt me just as deeply."

Shock devastated him. He was visibly stunned, like I’d just spat in his face. I couldn’t find a single f**k to give that he was hurt by my words. They were words that needed to be said. Over and over apparently, because they just weren’t sinking in.

"Do you have any idea what you’ve done by asking him here? By staging this mockery of an intervention-"

"Don’t be pissed at him," Jason pushed forward. His face was all innocence and light. "He just wanted to help."

"By inviting my ex-boyfriend to dinner? The ex-boyfriend who crushed me?" I could care less about Jason. He didn’t even exist in my world. I spoke to my dad and my dad alone. "I loved him, Daddy. I know you know what I mean. I see the way your face softens and your voice changes when you talk about Mom. You would have moved heaven and earth for her. Well, I would have done anything for Jason. I twisted the person I was to be perfect for him—and then he fell in love with someone else."

I took a breath, expecting this to fall on deaf ears, just like every other attempt. Dad would stand there like a stone and tell me that I just needed to try harder. Failure was never an option in his eyes.