Chapter Twenty-Five

 

The beauty of Las Vegas was it was warmer than Kansas City, but the wind still nipped through the weave of Libby’s sweater. She hugged it tight, wishing Noah was with her to keep her warm. But she knew this meeting was more important than he was letting on. Why hadn’t he told her about it sooner? When had he found out the guy was in Vegas?

She lingered in front of the fountains, waiting for them to turn on. She knew they were on timers, but they seemed to be lagging behind. 

While she waited, she photographed people on the strip and found herself concentrating on couples. There were two distinct groups—those who were simply there together and those who wanted to be with their significant others. The ones in the former group filled her with sadness. With one couple, the husband wore a look of irritation while his wife stared at him with a yearning that broke Libby’s heart. But there were others. A wife on her phone while her husband lagged behind. And another couple that had clearly had a recent argument—the wife in tears, her husband with a set jaw and a hard look in his eyes.

But the couples in love filled her with hope. Those couples had to touch each other in some way, even if only with their eyes. She watched as a couple in their forties stopped next to the fountains, probably waiting for them to turn on. The wife wore a light jacket and shivered when the wind gusted, so her husband pulled her into his arms. After wrapping his jacket around her back, he kissed her gently. The moment reminded her so much of her and Noah during their visit to the Czechoslovakian egg. Other than the kissing, had they looked like that? She remembered his gentleness and realized he’d already known he loved her. He’d planned that entire day out of love for her. How had she been so blind?

The familiar insecurities rushed in out of nowhere—her worn, faithful companions. They whispered into her ear, telling her that she was doomed, that she couldn’t keep Noah’s love. And maybe it was true. So many men—men she’d never even loved—had left her. And if her string of lost lovers wasn’t proof enough that she might be unlovable, her parents were icing on the cake. Her mother may have been physically present in her life, but she’d always made it clear that Libby was more of a nuisance than a blessing. And her father had left her when she was a baby.

And then he’d left a second time.

The memory she’d never shared with anyone—not Megan, not Blair, and not even her mother—washed over her, sickening in its clarity.

He showed up at their front door one day after Libby came home from school. Her mother was still at work. She wasn’t supposed to answer the door when her mother wasn’t home, but she recognized him from the photo she kept in her underwear drawer. She pulled it out often enough that she would have recognized him anywhere, even if he now had wrinkles around his eyes and streaks of gray in his dark hair. She’d dreamed of this day since she was little. In her fantasy, her dad would show up and tell her that he’d never intended to leave her for so long. He’d been kept from her by some overpowering force—he’d been in a coma, or he’d been lost on a deserted island, or he’d been held prisoner by pirates—and now that he’d come to his senses he’d searched high and low for his little girl.

But suddenly there he was, standing on her front porch, glancing at the landscaping under the picture window with a look of disgust as he pushed the doorbell repeatedly.

Libby’s stomach tumbled with nerves and she swallowed her nausea as she opened the door, prepared for him to swoop her into his arms and shower her with love.

He eyed her up and down dismissively before looking over her shoulder into the living room. “Is Gabriella here?”

Libby stuffed down her disappointment. He hadn’t seen her since she was a tiny baby. How would he know her now? She held on to the doorknob and twisted it nervously. “She’s at work.”

“Oh.” He took a step back as if to leave.

He couldn’t leave! He’d just shown up! She scrambled to come up with a reason for him stay. “She’ll be home any minute if you want to come in and wait!” It was a flat-out lie. Her mother was going out with friends after work, but he didn’t have to know that. 

He eyed her again, as though appraising her trustworthiness. She flashed him a warm smile and he gave a slight nod. “Well, I can wait for a few minutes.”

She backed up and opened the door wider for him to cross the threshold. “Gabriella’s done good for herself, huh?” he said walking around the room, picking up a knick-knack and examining it before setting it back in its place.

Libby shut the door. “Yeah, I guess.”

He turned to study her, his right hand twitching. “You say she’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Yeah. Can I get you something to drink?”

He hesitated. 

“A beer?”

She knew she’d made the right offer when a grin spread across his face. “Yeah. Sure. Gabby still drink Miller Light?”

“Uh . . . I think she has Corona and Boulevard.”

He sat on the sofa and crossed his legs, releasing a sharp laugh. “That’s Gabby. Always thinking she’s better than where she came from.”

Libby had no idea what he was talking about, but this wasn’t going how she’d dreamed it would. “Which one?”

Annoyance filled his eyes. “Get me the Corona, kid.” Libby was on her way to the kitchen when he called after her. “You got a lime? Ain’t that how the high and mighty drink it? With a lime?”

“Uh . . . I don’t know . . .”

He rolled his eyes. “You ain’t too bright, are you? Never mind.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Just get me the damn beer.”

She stumbled into the kitchen, resisting the urge to cry. Why hadn’t he told her he loved her? That he missed her and wanted to make up for lost time? She considered calling Megan, who lived closer than Blair. If her friend hopped on her bike, she’d get there in five minutes. But Libby looked at the clock on the microwave and realized that Megan was at a piano lesson and Blair was shopping with her mother. Libby could have called Gabriella—her mother made her use her first name so men wouldn’t think she was her kid—but she would be furious to hear Libby had let a stranger in the door. But he wasn’t a stranger! He was her father!

“Hey, kid! Where’s the beer? You get lost in the fridge?” He chuckled at his cleverness.

Libby pulled herself together and pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge, popped the top open and walked into the living room.

He was still on the sofa, his arm draped over the back. When she walked into the room, his expression changed. His hard, dark eyes softened and he licked his bottom lower lip.

She stopped in the doorway and took a moment to study him. There was no doubt he looked older than his picture, but it had been twelve years. He was thinner, and his face was covered with salt and pepper stubble. His jeans were filthy and his T-shirt was stained. He’d worn holes into the elbows of his black leather jacket as well as his white athletic shoes.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twelve.” She waited for him to connect the dots.

His eyes blinked wide. “Twelve. You look like you’re fifteen.”

She didn’t answer. She was used to her mother’s friends assuming the same thing.

“You’re a pretty thing.”

She was used to hearing that too. She shared her mother’s thick, dark, wavy hair and olive complexion, and was already showing the promise of her mother’s figure. She’d been the first girl in her class to need a bra.

“You gonna stand there all day or bring me that beer?” He grinned, but the leer on his face reminded her of her mother’s boyfriends. The ones she avoided.

Tears stung her eyes again, but she blinked them back as she took a few hesitant steps toward him, holding the bottle out.

He reached for it, but wrapped his hand around her wrist instead. “Didn’t get one for yourself?” The smile that spread across his face wasn’t friendly.

She jerked back out of instinct and the liquid in the bottle sloshed onto both their hands.

He let go of her like she was dirty. “Now look what you did, you stupid bitch.” He jerked his hand back, and for a moment she thought he was going to backhand her, but then he dropped it.

Libby took several steps back, still holding the bottle in her hand, prepared to use it as a weapon if need be.

He licked the beer off his hand and leered at her. “Why don’t you come sit by me.”

This man might be her father, but she wasn’t stupid. “I don’t think so.”

He gave her a look that said suit yourself, then glanced around the room. “Your mother keep any money in the house?”

“No.” She was pissed and she didn’t try to hide it.

He grinned. “Not even in her room? Under the mattress maybe?” He got up and made a move toward the hall, but Libby moved faster and blocked his path.

“I don’t think so.”

A sneer covered his face. “Let me teach you a few things about life, Elizabeth.”

Her breath stuck in her chest. He knew her. He knew her and yet he was still being an ass.

He laughed as if reading her thoughts. “Yeah, I knew you were Gabby’s brat.”

“I’m yours too,” she pushed out, barely audible.

He released a short bark. “By no choice of my own. I gave her the money to get an abortion, but she used it to go to Mexico for a week.”

“What?”

He towered over her. “I bet Gabby never told you that, did she?”

“No.”

“I’m not surprised. I bet there’s a lot of things she never told you.”

He was close enough for her to smell his odor of stale cigarettes and sweat. His eyes were slightly unfocused. He was high. He must have come looking for drug money.

Libby took several steps backward into the hall. “I think you should leave now.”

He laughed as he advanced on her. “Why? We’re just getting reacquainted. I bet you’ve had dreams of this day. Am I right? All kids want their parents to love them. You thought I’d show up and bring you a pony or something, huh? Just let me get the money and I’ll take you out for an ice cream cone.”

She was an idiot. Every dream she’d ever had of their reunion shriveled up and died. She narrowed her eyes and said with as much force as she could muster, “You need to leave.”

“What are you going to do, little girl? I’m not leaving until I get the money Gabby owes me.”

“Then come back when she’s here.”

An evil gleam filled his eyes. “You said she’d be back in a few minutes.”

She squared her shoulders. “You need to go.”

He paused, then laughed. “You’re just like her.”

She knew who her was and his words hurt more than if he’d slapped her in the face. She never wanted to be like her mother. He laughed when he saw he’d gotten to her. “You know, since I am your father, I suppose I owe you a legacy. Am I right?” He grinned wide, showing her a mouth full of broken and rotting teeth. “I’m fresh out of ponies, but I’ve got something better.”

Whatever he had, she didn’t want. Not anymore. “Leave.”

“You don’t want my gift?”

“If you don’t go, I’ll call 911.”

“You won’t because you want to know what I have to say. Well, here’s my legacy to you: words of wisdom. Isn’t that a father’s job? To prepare his kid for life?”

No. A father’s job was to make his daughter feel protected. To dry her tears and hug her when she was hurt. His job was to love her no matter what and always, always be there for her, but that was a mother’s job too, and Gabriella had never done any of those things for Libby. So why had she expected any different from her low-life father?

“I don’t care what you have to say!” she shouted through her tears. “Go!”

He laughed, a harsh bitter sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Men will only be interested in one thing, Elizabeth. Your body.” He touched her cheek and slid it down her neck.

She slapped his hand away with enough force to push it off her.

He released a peal of laughter. “Ah, you got some fight in you, girl. That comes from me. That’ll serve you well. But you got things from both of us.”

“Get the hell out of my house!”

He ignored her, leaning so close she could smell his rotten breath. “Your mother and I, we’re both fucking messes, and guess what, girlie? You got our genes. So let me give you a heads-up no one ever gave Gabby: No man will ever really love you. They’ll want your body and your looks and they’ll lie through their teeth to get you. But when they’ve used you up, they’ll move on. That’s what I did with your mother and every woman ever since. And your mother, she’s the same.”

Libby shook her head. “No.”

“She ain’t been with one man longer than a few months, am I right?”

She gripped the beer bottle so tight it was slippery in her hand.

“And don’t be thinking you can escape it. You’re just like her, from your face to your fiery temper. The sooner you accept that you’ll never keep a man, the less heartache you’ll have.” He stood up straight. “So there you go, Elizabeth. My legacy for you. Get used to a lonely fucking life.” He backed up into the living room and kicked a chair, making it fall over backward. “Get used to being alone, because no one fucking wants you. Not me. Not your mother who planned to abort you. No one.”

Without a second thought, Libby swung the bottle into the side of his head, beer and glass spraying everywhere. “You’re lying! Someone will love me! Someone who deserves me, and that sure as hell isn’t you. Now get out of my house, you fucking loser!”

He stumbled backward, looking dazed. She pushed his chest as hard as she could and he lurched toward the door, blood streaming down the side of his face.

She opened the front door and shoved him onto the front porch. “If you ever come back here, I’ll kill you.”

She slammed the door shut and locked it, pressing her back against the wood and fighting the sob lodged in her throat. When she heard his car start and pull away, she slid to the floor, her tears bursting loose. After she’d cried herself hoarse, she decided she had a choice. She could let the asshole who’d contributed half her DNA steal her dreams, or she could give him a big fuck-you and believe in them more.

She chose her dreams.

She ran to her room and dug out his photo, which she set fire to in the kitchen sink. As his image burned, she burned any hope of a relationship with him with it. As far as she was concerned, he was dead.

Already a firm believer in magic and destiny and fairytale endings, she latched on to them even more. She was determined that every boy and then man she met was the one—the exception who would prove her father wrong. In high school, she wrote off the broken relationships to immaturity and youth, but it was the cross-country road trip with Barry, the surfer, that made her question her real destiny. By the time they hit New Mexico, it was clear that she was a short-term relationship for him. He would never take her home to meet his mother.

Had her father been right? Was she so screwed up no one could love her?

And until she met Mitch, a long string of one-night stands and month-long relationships seemed to support that idea. But then Megan’s wedding reminded her of the curse, and she was sure that was her destiny. That was why her soul mate hadn’t shown up yet. It just hadn’t been time. So she kept Mitch around to spur her own substitute groom.

And to her surprise, he turned out to be Noah.

Only she wasn’t sure why she’d been surprised. She was glad they’d started out as friends, otherwise she doubted she would have spent the time to get to know him so well. And she knew he loved her. She could see it in his eyes. But she had to keep in mind that he was still Noah. What if Blair was right? Staying with women wasn’t something he did. Was he capable of changing for her? Was she capable of changing for him?

What if her father was right? What if her genes were her destiny and she would end up alone?

If she lost Noah, she knew she’d give up on love completely.