Page 143 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

“And who is this lovely young woman?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“This is Clementine,” I said quickly, suddenly feeling like a teenager bringing a girl home to meet his parents. “Clem, this is my father, Luke.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Voss.” She stopped. “Sorry, Mr. Voscari.”

I had explained I changed my name on the drive up.

“It’s been a while since you’ve come to see your old man,” Dad said. “And now you show up with a beautiful woman. Must be serious.”

“It is,” I said. “Very serious.”

He nodded once and smiled. “Well, good for you, son. About time you found someone worth bringing home.” He chuckled. “Well, not home, but you know what I mean.”

For the first few minutes the conversation was stilted and awkward. I kept waiting for him to say something inappropriate, or for Clem to look around and realize what a mistake this all was. But gradually everyone began to relax.

“I heard about that tour you did,” Dad said, leaning back in his plastic chair. It squeaked beneath his massive frame. “Feed America, right? Saw it on the news.”

“Yeah,” I said, glancing at Clem. “It was good. We raised a lot of money.”

“That’s a really good thing you did, giving back to the community,” he said, and the pride in his voice was something I hadn’t heard in years. “Maybe it’ll balance out some of the bad I’ve done.”

“Dad, it doesn’t work that way.”

“Doesn’t it?” He leaned forward, his eyes serious. “You think I don’t lie awake at night thinking about all the ways I screwed up your life?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he held up a hand.

“Let me finish. I know I can’t undo the things I’ve done, the choices I made. But seeing you out there, using your talent to help people instead of hurt them? That means something. That means maybe I didn’t mess you up completely.”

Clem’s hand squeezed mine under the table and I was grateful.

“I should probably…” Clem said quietly, starting to stand. “Maybe give you two some time to talk alone?”

“No,” Luke said quickly. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him with a gentle smile. “Take your time.” She kissed my cheek before she left. “I’ll be right outside when you’re ready. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Voscari.”

After she was gone, Dad stared at me with a smile that said he knew everything.

“She’s good for you,” he said. “I can see it in the way you look at her, the way you almost smiled for a change. More settled than I’ve ever seen you.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “She makes me better.”

“How long since you’ve been here, son?”

I looked down at my hands. “Too long. I know that.”

“Why?”

The question was simple, but the answer was anything but. “It’s tough for me to visit, Dad. Not because of this place, exactly.” I gestured helplessly. “It’s because when I look at you, I see myself. And that scares the hell out of me.”

He shook his head. “You’re not like me.”

“I’ve spent my whole life trying not to be like our family. Trying not to end up like the others. Trying to make something legitimate of myself, something clean. And when I come here and see you?” I swallowed hard. “It’s like I’m that little boy again, back in that house, watching everyone around me make choices that I knew were wrong but feeling powerless to do anything about it.”

Dad nodded slowly. “I understand that.”

“Do you? Because sometimes I look in the mirror and I see your temper and your stubbornness. I have that same tendency to push people away when they get too close. I see all the ways I could end up exactly like you, and it terrifies me.”