Page 137 of Cockpit
It takes me a second to believe that this is real. That Frank isn’t here to tell me I can’t see Sidney. That he is nothing like the Hoskins.
“That’s the one,” I murmur.
His laugh is a bit louder this time. “God help you. You’re going to need it.” Then he winks. “But she’s worth every argument and compromise you’ll have to make.”
I nod, hating the emotion in my throat. Hating that I never realized how much I needed this, but now that Frank is here and has expressed his approval, I know that I did.
“That she is,” I say, wondering how exactly I’m going to prove to her that I know that. How I’m going to prove to her I love her after letting her walk away. How I’m going to prove to her that I know she isn’t Claire and that I’ll never make that mistake again.
Because I won’t. This time spent without her and how goddamn horrible I’ve felt is enough of a reminder of what life without Sidney is like . . . and I don’t want to live like this.
I want her.
Plain. Simple. Complicated. Her.
“And how do you plan on making this work?” he asks in a way that should have my back up, but as a father, I recognize a parent only wanting the best for their child.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say. When I sent her the text this morning, I knew I was going to fight for her, but how much so just became so very apparent. “I know she needs her city, so we’ll have to make long distance work for the time being.”
“Do you think that will work?”
“It will have to. All I know is that my life is better with her in it . . . that much has become obvious since she left here . . . so making it work is the only option we have. It’s the only outcome I’ll accept.”
“That’s a big compromise, son.”
I shrug. “She’s worth the risk.”
It’s like déjà vu, standing in the back of Hooligan’s.
So many faces are the same as last time, but the buzz is a lot bigger this go ’round. Sunnyville is anxious to make one of their own Modern Family’s Hot Dad of the Year.
There’s a live band playing. Someone from Modern Family has placed signage in optimal spots for photographs, and there are red and white balloons tied to the ends of the booths to add a splash of color.
From where I stand in the back, I’ve managed to catch a glimpse of four of the five contestants. All but the one I crave to see—Grayson.
For the first time since I stepped foot back in Sunnyville months ago, I feel completely out of place. Strangely enough, my place has kind of been beside Grayson, and to be so uncertain of how he’s going to react to seeing me again is nerve-racking.
“Look at you! It’s only been a week, and I already miss the hell out of you.” Rissa grabs me in the tightest of hugs, which makes me wants to cry.
“It does feel like forever, doesn’t it?”
“See? It’s all that clean air talking and messing up your thinking.” She laughs and squeezes my hand.
“Not hardly.”
“When you didn’t respond to any of my texts, I didn’t think you were coming.”
“You texted?” I ask. “My damn phone is acting up. I did that update, and I’m not getting any of them. It’s been frustrating as hell.”
And, of course, that says nothing about how it feels wondering if Grayson has been trying to text to me too.
I doubt he has, though. My hoping that he has, and I just haven’t been getting them, is nothing but wishful thinking.
“Have you seen him yet?” Her voice lowers, and her eyes soften as the bar buzzes around us.
I don’t trust my voice, so I just shake my head.
“Hmm. Neither have I.”
