“Hey,” Chris says, catching my attention. I turn to find him standing beside me, his smile lighting up his eyes, and I feel a flutter in my chest.
“I’ll leave you guys to it,” my sister says with a knowing smile as she walks toward her wife, their hands finding each other’s and their lips meeting in a loving kiss.
“They look so happy,” Chris says, his eyes lingering on my sister and her wife.
“Yeah,” I reply, warmth spreading through me at their happiness. I glance at Chris teasingly. “Did you finally have enough of everyone drooling over you?” I ask with a smirk.
He laughs, running a hand through his hair. “I was dying over there,” he admits with a sigh. “I forgot how much I hate talking to people.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You talk to me,” I point out.
His hand drops to his side, and he smiles warmly at me. “You’re different,” he says simply.
My stomach flutters like crazy. “I am?”
His eyes meet mine, and I get lost in his deep chocolate eyes, leaning closer without even realizing it. He looksreallygood in his tuxedo, the fit accentuating his figure just right, and his messy curls add to his usual boyish charm that I’ve always loved.
The distance between us shrinks as Chris licks his lips, as if about to say something. But before he can speak, his eyes lift from mine, a scowl forming on his face as he glances behind me.
I spin around, a frown creasing my face, trying to catch a glimpse of what captured his attention. I freeze, a chill creeping up my spine as my eyes lock on a face I haven’t seen in four years.
“Is that—”
“Yeah.”
“Why the hell is he here?” Chris grits out.
I have no idea. Why would he be here? I take a step forward, but Chris stops me, his hand wrapping around my wrist.
“Wait. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I let my wrist slip out of Chris’ grasp and turn to face him. “I’m going to talk to him.”
“No,” he replies sharply, a furrow appearing between his brows as he scowls, moving closer to me. “Absolutely not. You’re not going anywhere near him. Let me handle this. I’ll talk to him.”
“No.” My blood grows cold at the mere thought of Chris confronting him. “I have to be the one to talk to him,” I tell him, noticing the frown deepen on Chris’ face. “He’s my father.”
Chris’ frown deepens, but he releases his grip on me. I swallow hard as I spot my father lurking behind the bushes, scanning the crowd, searching for my sister.
When he notices me approaching, his gaze shifts to me, causing my stomach to plummet. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
He scoffs. “After four years, that’s the first thing you say to me?”
“What are you doing here?” I repeat, my voice strained.
He sighs heavily. “It’s my daughter’s wedding.”
A bitter laugh escapes my lips, burning my throat. “You wouldn’t know the meaning of that word if it hit you in the head.”
He scowls at me, that same old expression I remember from all those times before he lashed out at me, Jane, or Mom. “Spare me the dramatics. You always acted too tough for your own good.”
I trace my tongue over the faint scar on my lips, remembering the painful moment I tried to intervene and protect Mom.
It didn’t work though. It never worked.
“Get out.”
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that,” he retorts, moving closer. “Have you forgotten I’m your father?”
