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Camera in place, we pose, snapping one sentimental shotand then one goofy one—eyes crossed, tongues sticking out. Laughter bubbles up between us, filling the space with a warmth only moments like this can create.
As Halmeoni snaps close-ups of flowers for her Instagram wall and Mom and Colby grab snacks from a cart, Dad and I fall into easy conversation. We cover everything under the sun—the food, the weather, how Halmeoni and Eomma can never agree on where to eat. Nothing is off the table.
Well, everything except the elephant in the room.
Brian.
Finally, Dad shifts, resting his hands on his lap, the way he always does when a serious talk is coming.
“Do you still love him?” he asks, his voice soft but probing.
I sigh, the question stirring up knots in my stomach and a flurry of butterflies in my chest. “Yes,” I admit. No hesitation because it’s the truth.
“Have you talked?”
My hands twist together in my lap. “No.”
“You know all that was malarky. What the press said about Sydney Sun.”
“I know,” I say softly. “Colby told me it was Angi. And I know Brian had to do what he did. Colby would probably be rotting in a military jail if Brian hadn’t stepped in.”
Dad looks at me, his brow furrowing. “Then, why not?”
I sigh, feeling the weight of everything unspoken. “Why not? A million reasons...and none at all.” My throat tightens. “I’m always going to be scared. All those years ago, one photo—me, vulnerable—he took it. And ripped the rug from under my world when he did. Yes, it was a long time ago, but I’ll always have that sliver of doubt.” That and he datedAngi...though I don’t bring it up. “Isn’t that why you’ve hated him?”
He shakes his head slowly, a frown pulling at his lips. “I never hated Brian. I just...” Dad claps his hands on his lap, like he’s about to rip off a Band-Aid. “Brian never dated Angi.”
Confused, I blink. “What?”
“He never dated Angi. I hired him to watch her,” Dad explains, his eyes locked on mine. “To keep her from getting too crazy. To keep you safe and shielded. I mean, the two of you in the same school and the same grade presented me with the equivalent of dad hell.”
“He never dated Angi?” I still can’t wrap my head around it. “So he was, what? Her babysitter?”
Dad blows out a long, exaggerated breath. “Yes.”
I think back to every memory of Brian chasing after Angi, and I can’t help but smile. For all the time we spent together—them together, me the third wheel—I never actually saw them kiss. Not once.
In fact, every time she tried, his exact words were, “Get off me.” I laugh out loud. I just thought he hated PDA. The time she full-on attacked him at the bleachers and he fell backward? Priceless.
I’m still grinning when I notice Dad’s little brow twitch—his tell when he’s holding something back. Worst poker face ever. I give him a playful nudge. “What else?”
He takes a deep breath. “Brian never took that photo of you, Jules. Angi did.”
It feels like the air’s been sucked from my lungs. I stare at him, trying to process the words. “Dad! I’ve blamed him all these years.”
“I know,” he says helplessly.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Because I made him swear he wouldn’t,” Dad says, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t want you hating Angi. And Brian was about to deploy...” He blows out a long breath, the weight of it sagging his shoulders. “I was just trying to protect both my girls. The only way I knew how.”
His words slowly sink in, and before I can stop myself, I pull him into a tight hug. And then I let go. Of him. Of all of it.
The flood of emotions hits me all at once—shock, anger, relief, guilt. Brian, my husband, has been looking out for me, forus—all of us—for so long. How could I have been so blind? How could I not have known?
My throat tightens, and for a moment, I can’t find the words.
Then, it all comes rushing to the surface. “I need to call him,” I finally say, standing up, already reaching for my phone.
