“Not particularly. Brad texted me the link to the property listing after I’d sent him to voicemail, and when I called you and you didn’t answer, I kind of freaked out a little. Margot thought I should wait for you to call me back or wait until after the wedding to drive down, but I was worried, okay? And she accused me of overreacting and told me I needed to stop putting everyone’s needs before mine, and I accused her of”—she cringed—“having a fear of abandonment, which was a pretty awful thing to blurt out, I’ll admit, but also may be true?”
Dad frowned. “Obviously I wasn’t there, so I don’t have all the specifics, but it sounds to me like you both said some pretty hard things you felt like the other needed to hear?”
That was a . . . fair assessment of the situation. “I guess.”
“Can’t say I disagree with her, Liv. You’ve spent enough time taking care of other people. And, just to offer some perspective, saying what she did probably wasn’t the easiest. Think about it. She probably knew you might react poorly, but she said it anyway because she thought you needed to hear it.” Dad stroked his chin, looking thoughtful. “It sounds to me like Margot cares about you.”
“That’s what she said. That she said what she did because she cares.”
“It’s not always the easiest to let someone care about you, is it?” Dad’s brows rose pointedly.
God. Her chin wobbled, and she bit down on her lip to keep it from quivering. It really wasn’t. Despite being something she desperately wanted, it was hard to let it happen. To let herself have it and—shit. Margot really was right. Olivia didn’t need anyone’s permission to be happy.
Only her own.
Her teeth scraped her bottom lip. “She’s not the only one. I mean, I care about her, too.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the least, kid.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why? Because I care about everyone?”
Dad chuckled. “Because it’s Margot. I might be your dad, and I might not always know the right thing to say or how to say it, but I’ve got two eyes, and it was obvious to anyone who looked at you two that you weren’t just friends.”
Her face burned at the insinuation that Dad knew more about their past—or at least her feelings—than he’d ever let on. She rolled her lips together, weighing out how much she wanted to share. “She was my best friend.”
Dad’s brows rose.
“She was. But fine. I had a crush on her, okay? And for a while I thought . . .” When Dad’s lips twitched, she set her hands on her hips, huffing softly. “You didn’t snoop through my diary, did you?”
Oh, Jesus. She pressed a hand to her cheek, skin on fire. Talk about mortifying. She’d never be able to look Dad in the eye again if he’d read even half of what she’d written.
“Your diary?” Dad guffawed, the recliner rocking with the ferocity of his laughter. “Jesus, no. I probably would’ve had a heart attack a decade before I did, if I had done that.”
Her jaw dropped. “Dad! That’s not funny.”
“Eh.” He seesawed his hand from side to side, nose wrinkling. “Come on. It’s a little funny. If I can’t laugh at myself, what the hell am I supposed to laugh about?”
Her lips twitched. “Nudist retirement villas, obviously.”
“Jesus.” He dragged his hand down his face. “And you said Margot put that idea in your head?” He tsked, shaking his head. “Consider me doubly glad I never read your diary.”
Her chest loosened when she laughed. “Me too, Dad. Me too.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “It’s good seeing you laugh, Liv. You haven’t done nearly enough of that in the last few years. It seems to me like moving to the city’s been good for you. And maybe . . . Margot’s been a part of it, too?”
A flicker of warmth flared to life inside her chest, catching, growing, spreading outward until her fingertips tingled. She pressed her fingers to her lips and nodded, sniffling. “I’m really happy, Dad,” she whispered.
Dad heaved himself out of the chair and wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in a hug. Olivia buried her nose in his chest, breathing in the smell of his laundry detergent, the one he’d been purchasing for years because it was the one Mom had used. “I’m happy you’re happy, Livvy.”
When he finally released her and took a step back, his face was red and his eyes were suspiciously damp, or maybe they only seemed that way because her vision was downright blurry. She bit her bottom lip and sniffled. Dad rested one of his large hands on her shoulders, the heavy weight pleasant, grounding. “Are these happy tears, or . . . ?”