It didn't take long before everywhere began to get dark. Christian and I ate our meal in silence. I had refused to dignify his accusation with an answer. And he hadn't pressed further.
Bidding farewell to Henry felt a little awkward. Christian had gone ahead, standing beside the car, and Henry and I lingered just outside the restaurant.
"I enjoyed the meal."
"Whenever you feel like it, let me know, and I'll send salmon to you."
I nodded, and gave him a small smile.
"Hey." His voice softened. Henry looked at me apologetically, "hope I didn't put you in a tight spot."
"What do you mean?"
"Christian can be an ass. I should know that better than anyone. I'm one of the only people who can put up with him. I didn't mean to… flirt with you." He smirked, "Especially not in front of him."
My stomach stirred.
"Don't worry about it. We don't have that kind of relationship."
He raised a brow, and I bit my tongue.
"That's not, I didn't mean it like that." I stumbled over my words.
He laughed. "Don't go saying things like that or you'll make people misunderstand."
Again with the ambiguity in his words. He never said anything outright inappropriate. So what exactly would I fault him for?
"Goodbye, Henry."
"Later, Mrs Gulf."
The laughter escaped my lips before I could stop it. He really did a good Christian impression.
The silence from our dinner continued through the ride home, the sound of the engine filling the air. Christian didn't look my way when we arrived at the mansion. I stepped out of the car, my hand still on the door when I noticed Christian wasn't moving.
I stood, my eyes on him. When he finally looked at me, he said, "I'll be dropping by the office."
"This late?" I questioned. He sounded like he was in a mood. Monster mood.
"I have work to do. I don't expect you to understand."
Ouch. Was that necessary?
I slammed the door shut and watched as the car moved until it was no longer in my sight.
***
We were back to being strangers and only seeing each other once in almost a week. Christian had hardly come home, even though the holidays had come. My in-laws had gone on a trip, which I was grateful for, and I'd ended up spending Christmas morning with dad in the hospice.
Things were going great as we reminisced about a particular christmas morning I had run away from home. That was all we did. Talk about the past, a time when we were both happy. Still in each other's lives.
"I can't believe you ran away just because I said I couldn't make it home for christmas." Dad chuckled. He looked healthier. Aside from the lost weight, he almost looked like he was back to his old self.
The doctors had said he had barely a month left, that was a week ago. It had thrown me into a slump, and Henry had helped pull me out of it. Now, as I observed Dad, I could feel it in my bones that he had more time, that we had more time together.
"Whose fault was it?" I jokingly glowered at him.
"All mine," he admitted, then coughed lightly.
My brows drew together in worry. "Are you cold? Should we go inside?"
He had complained about feeling suffocated in his room. He hadn't been able to go outside for over a month, so he had begged me to take him outside this christmas morning. I had obliged, despite the protests of his caregiver. We ended on a compromise, and had worn dad many layers of clothing. His caregiver had pushed his wheelchair outside, and had instructed me to call him the second I sensed anything wrong.
The way he said it, it made my chest tighten, as if he was already preparing for the worst.
"I think we should go in." I insisted.
"Not yet. It's so beautiful outside." He looked wistfully into the distance.
I turned my gaze forward, staring into the abyss, my own regret weighing heavily in my heart.
We had never talked about it. In the four months we'd spent together, we had never once talked about my wedding. There were times where I wondered if he would ever bring it up. Before he… passed.
A very small voice in my head had been insisting I not ruin the mood by bringing up the wedding. I'd been listening to that voice.
Not anymore.
"Are we ever going to talk about my marriage to Christian?"
I played with my hands, letting the pink mittens Henry had gifted me for Christmas to distract me. My head was bowed, my courage faltering. I could never muster the courage to ask him before. But with his impending death, it felt like something we needed to talk about before it was too late.
"Alora, please forgive me."
Instantly, my eyes met his.
"Dad…"
"If I hadn't sent you away, you wouldn't be in this situation. It's all my fault. Everything you are suffering now, is because of me. Because I was a coward." He said regretfully.
I didn't understand what he was referring to, but I didn't want to push him to keep talking. His face twisted in pain and regret. His eyes reddened, and I felt a gut wrenching pain when realization hit me.
He wanted to cry.
"Oh, dad. No. It's okay, dad. I promise you, I'm fine. I'm okay."
He shook his head. I could tell he wanted to get it, whatever it was, off his chest.
I wish he knew that he didn't have to apologize to me anymore. All those years of anger and hatred dissolved the second I saw him in that hospital room, lying almost lifeless. I couldn't hate him. Not when he had been the best father to me. And if I was being honest, switching mine and Leah's places had been the right thing to do. They had a right to love their daughter. It wasn't their fault that my birth parents had failed to love me…
In that fragile moment we were in, a heavy presence approached us. I felt the weight of her hatred before I even looked up.
Leah.
She scoffed, "you really are something else. After everything you and your husband have put us through, you have the nerve to come here and play daddy's little girl."
"Leah, enough." Dad tried to sound stern, and it made his coughing worse.
"It's fine dad, I'll leave. I'll come see you some other time."
I placed a kiss on his cheek and hugged him.
"Please call his caregiver to take him inside. He's been out for too long." I said to Leah.
"Don't tell me how to take care of my father." She spat the words, emphasizing 'father'.
Her intentions were not lost to me. I got the message. In the past, her words would have infuriated me. But I had come a long way since then. I had healed. Maybe not completely, but spending time with dad had gone a long way to soften my anger towards him, and by extension, my hatred for Leah.