Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(124)

“Two?” the hostess asks.

“Actually, we’re meeting someone.”

The woman nods.

I take Bianca’s arm and lead her toward the back. She has pulled out her phone and she’s typing a message, probably to Gabby. I don’t stop her until we reach the table.

“Bianca,” I say, trying to draw her attention from the phone.

She peers at me briefly. I nod my head and I watch intently as she turns her attention to…

Another one of those suspended-in-time moments occurs. This time, it’s happening to Bianca while I watch. I’m observing from the outside, but I can feel every single emotion that she’s feeling.

Her eyes instantly widen and her mouth falls open. A shocked gasp escapes at the same time her cell phone clatters to the floor. If this were any other day, Bianca would’ve dove to the floor to keep it from hitting the concrete. That doesn’t happen.

Several heads turn. I want to wave them off, to say, “No worries. It’s her dad. She’s seeing him for the first time. Ever. Go back to your enchiladas and empanadas.” I don’t, though. I watch my daughter as her brain processes the man now standing in front of his chair.

I don’t know how in the world she could possibly know who this man is unless she recognizes him because she looks so much like him. Seriously, I noticed, so I could see how she could, too.

Tears spring to James’s eyes instantly. If I were seeing him for the first time, I probably would think it was weird. The guy isn’t small by any means. Close to six three, I’d guess. He’s not built quite like the hockey players I spend so much time with, but he’s on the large size. It’s clear he works out. So, this big guy with the slightly crooked nose—an injury he sustained playing high school football, he said—with tears in his eyes is a little disarming.

It totally meshes with the sensitive man I’ve come to know, so I’m not completely surprised.

“Bianca.” The one word comes out as though he’s been gargling with sand.

“You’re…”

They are both too stunned to move, and I’m at risk of bawling my eyes out, so I swallow the lump in my throat and make the official introduction.

“Bianca, this is James Heron. Your father.”

James is nodding his head as though the spring in his neck is loose. Bianca has tears streaming down her face and sobs are breaking free from her. I glance around and see people curiously staring at us.

“No worries,” I say, waving them off. “Those are happy tears.”

I hope they’re happy tears.

I clear my throat, and James looks my way. It’s as though he only realizes then that we’re in the middle of the restaurant. He immediately pulls out the chair to his right and motions for Bianca to take a seat. I manage to pick up her phone from the floor and take the seat beside her, opposite James. I drop her phone into my purse. She won’t need it for a while.

“You’re even more beautiful than your pictures.” James’s tone is full of wonder. “And I definitely like the blue hair.”

Bianca offers a laugh-sob, then takes a deep, shuddering breath.

The waiter comes over, and I order a Dr. Pepper for Bianca and an iced tea for myself, then add a bowl of queso before he walks away. I figure if these two are going to stare at each other for the rest of the night, I might as well eat.

After all, the calories don’t count on the day your twelve-year-old daughter meets her father for the first time, right?





Bianca

I can’t feel my fingers.

Or my toes.

Or … now that I think about it, I can’t feel my legs.

I don’t know how I got into this chair.

My mom’s hand gently slides over my forearm. “Breathe, honey.”

Easy for her to say. I was beginning to think this day would never come.

I knew the second I looked at him that he was my dad. I don’t know how I knew, but I knew. And when tears came to his eyes … it made me cry. Now, I can’t swallow past the huge lump in my throat. If I open my mouth, I fear more tears will stream out of my eyes, and I’m trying not to let that happen. I don’t want him to think I’m a whiny little kid.

“A friend of mine sent your Facebook post to me,” James says. “He was with me in Las Vegas the year I met your mom. The second I saw her picture, I knew who she was.”

I look over at my mom. She nods her head and says, “He called me back in December.”

I stare more intently at her. “December?”

I can’t believe she waited that long to tell me. I’ve been waiting and waiting and waiting. Didn’t she think I deserved to know? This was my idea, after all.

“Your mom and I have spent the last month talking. I think it’s safe to say she’s pretty protective of you.” He smiles. “Which is not a bad thing. She has told me so much about you, and we’ve been counting down the days until it felt right for the two of us to meet.”

“She tried to keep you away from me?” I blurt. I don’t know why I said that, but it hurts to know that she didn’t mention him before now.

“Of course not,” my mom says. “I was trying to protect you.”

“From my own dad?” I glare at her. “Why would you do that? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”