Page 121 of The Holiday Makeover

We both let out deep breaths and sipped more coffee.

It got so uncomfortable, I blurted out, “How about them Dodgers?”

That was what one said when one didn’t know what else to say, right?

Regardless, Dad chuckled before staring down into his mug. “I’m being an idiot.”

Huh. That was promising.

We turned to face each other in sync, both wearing furtive expressions.

“I’m glad to see things are working out between you and Rory,” Dad said. “She’s a good woman.”

“She is,” I agreed. “The best, even.”

Dad nodded while rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think I realized what kind of repercussions you faced from accepting the offer for your own show. What it cost you.”

My grip tightened around my mug.

“Would it have changed your advice?” I asked.

Meaning his advice—really his insistence—that I take the show.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

I guess I could admire his honesty.

But I had to know. “Why couldn’t you have just been proud of me and Rory for what we created? Do you know what it takes to get three million YouTube subscribers and the kind of sponsors we had?”

Believe me, I realized the hypocrisy in asking.

I’d been guilty of the same thing. I’d looked at what Rory and I had built and decided it wasn’t enough. That I needed a big-name network behind me for validation. To make my parents proud. To prove I deserved my last name.

And that was the heart of my question. With him, I had never felt like enough.

And I wanted to know why.

“I don’t know, Tate,” he said. “I thought it was what you wanted. That you wanted to be pushed. That you were just as disappointed as I was about how your football career ended.”

I fell back against the chair. “You don’t know how disappointed I was. How scared I was to tell you.”

My voice hitched, and I hated it.

“More than anything, I wanted you to tell me it would be okay. That I would be okay. Instead, I got a lecture about how I hadn’t tried hard enough and had to watch the world discussing how I didn’t live up to your legacy.”

Dad went still.

“Did you ever stop for one moment to think how that was affecting me? How maybe I just needed you to be my dad? That it was okay if I chose a different path than yours?” A lump formed in my throat. “Hell, I would have just taken, I love you, son.”

The words sat between us, heavier than anything either of us had ever said to each other.

Dad set his coffee beside him and stared blankly into the fire.

“I should have done those things,” he said, his voice rough. “And I’m sorry I didn’t.”

His apology caught me by surprise.

“Are you just saying this because of Mom?”