Cinderella Steals Home (21 page)

   
I shake my head and don't look at him. "Nope. It feels like my first trip to California."
 

   
"That's too bad," he says. "We always had a great time, the four of us. I loved being with you guys."
 

   
Now I swing my head in his direction. "What are you talking about?"
 

   
Dad looks at me. "We never really talked about what happened, did we?"
   

   
"Dad, I don't want -- "

   
"Wait," he says, holding up his hand. "Let me, okay, Holly? We don't have to bring it up ever again but let me say this."
 

   
I let out a quiet sigh. "Okay."
 

   
"I didn't know that I'd ever get a chance to tell you all the things I've wanted to," Dad says as we walk along, neither of us looking at the other. "But when you moved back, I decided it was time. You're old enough now. Holly, you know I never meant to ruin our family."
 

   
I open my mouth to respond, to spare him this, but he stops me.
 

   
"Wait," he says. "Please. I never meant to do that. I know that I did and I knew that I would, but I suppose on some levels, it was something that had to happen. Your mother and I weren't happy anymore. It's always hard when something comes to an end, even when it's broken, but sometimes there's relief there, too. And the truth is, she and I both knew that, one day, this would be for the best. And that's happened."
 

   
He takes a deep breath before continuing. "Your mom's happier now than she had been with me for the last couple years we were together. Tanya and I are having a baby. Justin is great and I'm so proud of you," he says. "I don't want to trivialize it and say that everything worked out for the best, but it did. We might not have ended up where we thought we'd be, but I think we ended up where we're supposed to be."
 

   
I'm letting all of Dad's words sink into my head as he says them. I know that I'm not supposed to be okay with this, that I'm supposed to be angry and sulking and not letting him off the hook, and maybe fight, cry, scream, but I don't feel any of those things.
 

   
I was mad at him when I got to Arizona. I didn't want to be here, and I definitely didn't want to be living with him. But after two months in the desert, it's all fading away. I know my mom is happy, and I know Dad is, too. He's right when he says Justin's good, and I don't know what, exactly, there is to be proud of me for, but I'm not unhappy, either.
 

   
I'm okay with where I am and I'm okay with where I've been. None of those things would have happened if Dad hadn't cheated.
 

   
I wish I could have grown up in a house with two parents who were in love and happy and had the white picket fence and the dog and the station wagon and all those things you're supposed to want, but I didn't, and that's okay, too.
 

   
I'm figuring it out, anyway.

   
For the first time in what seems like forever, it finally feels like everything is falling into place. I'm home. I have my brother. I have my parents, even if they don't have each other. And there's Doan and Natalie and baseball, and what more do I need?
 

   
I look over at Dad as all these thoughts run through my head, and he's staring back at me, and I'm certain I see fear in his eyes that I'm about to snap and yell and tell him all the reasons that he's a terrible father.
 

   
"It's okay," I say instead. I don't know what else to tell him. "I mean that."
 

   
He frowns. "Are you sure?"
 

   
"Dad, I'm sure," I say, my voice stronger than I remember hearing it in a long time. "It's over. It happened already. And like you said, it's worked out okay. We're all okay."
 

   
He nods and takes a few shaky steps toward me and folds me into his arms and I hug him back, tightly, and it's the first time in a long time that a hug from Dad doesn't feel wrong.
 

   
And I can't help but think back to the night that Doan came upstairs and heard my singing and told me that Dad was planning on asking me to join his baseball team.
 

   
I remember the horror I felt, the dread, the cold sweat that washed over me at the idea of spending that much time with him.
 

   
And I remember what Doan told me, that there's never enough time with family. That there's always a way to forgive your family.
     

    
I just don't remember thinking that he was right.
 

***

   
"We had a good talk," I tell Doan when I find him out by the hotel pool after Dad and I get back from the beach.
 

   
He beams at me from the water. I'm dangling my legs in the pool as I sit along the edge. "I'm really happy for you, Holls."
 

   
I realize that I'm happy for me, too. I still don't know if Dad and I needed to have that conversation, but I know it helped him, so I'm glad it happened.
 

   
"You know what else?" I say, the idea that's been rattling around in the back of my head for the last hour about to come to the surface. "I kind of think I want to try singing again. In front of people. Well, at least as many people as you'll see at Gemma's, anyway."
 

   
Doan's grin gets even wider. "Are you serious?"
 

   
I nod and bite my lip. "Yeah, I think so."
 

   
And it sounds right even when I hear it out loud. Dad telling me that he's so happy with how everyone is doing lately got me thinking. Mom's where she wants to be, and so is he, and I'm pretty sure Justin's good, too.
 

   
Walking back up to the hotel, I'd realized that only one thing is really missing from what I want to be doing.
 

   
And that's sharing my music.
 

   
So I'm going to do it.
 

   
"Why?" Doan asks. "I know you wanted to before, but you were so pissed to see me there."
 

   
I shrug. "It feels right. It's time to do it for real."
 

   
"Will you come?" I ask him. "To the show?"
 

   
He shakes his head and smiles. "You really have to ask?"
 

  
"Just want to make sure."
 

   
"Come on," he says. "I was at your first show, too, remember? And I didn't even get to see you play. Pretty sure you owe me one now."
 

   
I laugh and think back to how it feels like that happened so long ago but it was really just a month.
 

   
"I know," he says, studying my face. "Feels like forever ago, right?" He's absently stroking the skin on my leg with his thumb.
 

   
"Yeah, it really does."
 

   
I smile and lean down to kiss him and feel his soft, sweet lips against mine, gentle at first, but there's more urgency as I run my fingers through his hair.
 

   
He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me toward him and we tumble down into the water, hitting it with a splash.
 

   
We're both laughing when he come up for air.
 

   
"Forgot where I was there," he says with a chuckle.
 

   
I put my arms and legs around him, and hold on as he swims us lazily through the pool.

   
"It's perfect here," I tell him. "Right now, like this."
 

   
He looks at me and nods. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Or with anyone else."
 

   
I try to keep the smile from taking over my face, but it's hard when I'm looking right at him, and he's so lovely and wonderful and gorgeous and, well, mine.
 

   
Having Doan here with me is enough to make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
 

   
Like I'm where I've always belonged.
 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I sit in the front seat of my comfortable, familiar Honda, a slight wave of nausea bubbling up in my stomach as I try to steady myself to do something I'm not sure I'm ready for but that I know I want.
 

I suck in a deep breath and hop out of my car. I pull my guitar and song notebook out of the backseat and walk steadily toward Gemma's. I'm nervous, but it feels different this time. I don't have the same sense of dread. I want to be here. I need to do this.

And mostly I'm just glad Doan will be here later to support me when I need him.
 

Natalie is standing behind the counter when I walk in.
 

"Hey!" she exclaims. "You came!"
 

"'Course I did. I'm on the list."
 

She shrugs. "Doesn't mean much, does it? Let's see if we can actually get you on stage tonight."
 

I smile. "I promise this time."
 

"Hey, I want you to meet Shane," she says as a tall guy with longer, wavy blonde hair and a solid athlete's body comes walking out of the back room. "He's home from summer training in Europe. Shane, this is Holly."
 

"Good to finally meet you," he says, holding out a hand to me before Natalie nestles herself under the crook of his shoulder and smiles at him.
 

It's obvious when watching the two of them together that they're in love. That they're right. There's no mistaking the way she looks at him, or the protective arm he wraps around her.
 

Just a few weeks ago, I'm pretty sure this would've made me insane with envy even if I wouldn't admit it.
 

But now...
 

"Nice to meet you too," I say. "I've heard lots about you and hockey."
 

Shane grins and smiles at his girlfriend. "Why am I not surprised?" He points to the guitar resting on the floor next to my feet. "You playing tonight?"
 

"Yeah. Definitely."
 

"Is Doan coming?" Natalie asks, raising her eyebrows suggestively at me.
 

I try not to blush but I'm pretty sure it doesn't work. "He's supposed to be here, yeah."
 

She claps her hands together and gives a little squeal, and Shane smiles and shakes his head before leaning down and brushing a quick kiss against her hair.
 

"Yes!" she exclaims. "I knew it!"
 

"I don't even know what we're doing," I tell her.
 

"I do," she replies. "The look on your face says it all."
 

I blush again. "I'm gonna put this in the back and get to work. The napkins are looking low."
 

Natalie shoots me a knowing, triumphant smile as I walk to the back and take a second for myself in the back.
 

I set my guitar and notebook down along the wall and wrap an apron around my waist.
 

I look at the guitar resting peacefully and smile.
 

It's finally going to happen.

Open mic night starts in twenty minutes but I'm not scheduled to play until nine. Doan said he'd come early to hang out and I can't wait to see him. We'd mostly just slept the entire bus ride back to Arizona on Sunday night, and I haven't seen him since.
 

I push my way back through the swinging door with extra napkins and straws tucked under my arms and walk over to the counter where we keep those goods.
 

Shane's sitting at a table near the door sipping from a mug and reading a book, while Natalie puts fresh cakes in the glass pastry display. I watch them as I absently fill the napkin dispensers. Every now and then, he glances up from his reading to look at her and smile, and every time he puts his head back down, she happens to look at him and gets the same happy, faraway look on her face.
 

And that just makes me smile and look to the door, waiting for Doan to walk in for me.
 

I turn my back so I can stock up on straws when the bells jingle and I feel a tap on my shoulder.
 

Already smiling, I whirl around, ready to fling my arms around Doan and wrap him up in a giant hug when I have to immediately throw on the brakes.
 

"Whoa," I say as I hold out my hand against this guy's chest to steady myself. "Uh, sorry."
 

He raises an eyebrow, then looks down at my hand pressed against him, and I quickly pull it away.
 

"You're here to sing, right?" I ask, recognizing him now that I have a chance to look at him as the heat in my cheeks fades. He came up to me before the last open mic night, too, to ask about setting up his equipment.

But I hope he doesn't remember me.
 

Or at least what we talked about that day.
 

He nods. "Yep. You too?"
 

I smile. "Yeah."
 

"How'd it go last time? You were so nervous."