“You know how I feel about that,” I said. “Please let it go.” I stood from my seat and walked out of the room in a huff, aggravated that they never stopped pushing.
Once I was in my room, I sat at my desk and checked Facebook for any messages from Dex or Grandpa. If it weren’t for them, I didn’t know how I would get through any of this. I saw a notification that Dex had left a message.
Dex: Just finished reading “Persuasion.” I’m surprised to say that I actually liked it.
The time stamp said he’d sent it hours ago. It was so hard not having a live conversation with him, being able to hear his voice and see the expression on his face. I quickly typed a response.
Tizzy: I’m not surprised. It’s a classic, one of the best.
Immediately, his profile icon showed up on the right-hand side, slightly below the message, indicating he’d seen it. Three little dots began to move, signifying he was typing out a reply. I waited for his next words, heart fluttering, eyes glued to the screen.
Dex: After I read it, I understood exactly why it was your favorite.
Tizzy: What do you mean?
Dex: You relate to Anne.
Tizzy: I relate to all of Jane Austen’s characters.
Dex: But this one a little more, maybe?
Tizzy: What are you getting at?
Dex: You don’t see it? It’s pretty ironic, actually.
Tizzy: What am I supposed to see here?
Dex: Lady Russell convinced Anne not to marry the man she loved because he wasn’t “good enough” for her. Eight years later she was full of regrets.
It was like sitting in the dark and having someone turn the lights on. I hadn’t made that connection before—I just liked the story line.
Tizzy: Wow. I never put two and two together in that way.
Dex: You didn’t? I thought that was why you picked the book.
Tizzy: Honestly, I only picked it because I thought the story was good, but you’re correct. It hits close to home.
The three little dots started up again, and then they disappeared, indicating he was typing something but then stopped. Whatever he had to say, he was thinking it through. A few minutes later, a message popped up.
Dex: Moral of the story: don’t let anyone convince you that love isn’t enough.
The corners of my mouth lifted in a smile. This was exactly the kind of reminder I needed right now.
Tizzy: Don’t worry. Love is the only thing keeping me going.
Chapter 20
Tizzy
I woke up suddenly, tears rushing to my eyes from a dream that felt so authentic, I was still reeling. A dream that was both sweet and heart-wrenching all at once. I swiped the tears off my face and stared up at the ceiling, my heart pounding in my chest.
Six weeks. It had been six weeks since I’d flown back to Pennsylvania, and not a day went by that I didn’t think about Dex and everything he meant to me. The time had dragged by, but I found myself torn in two different directions. Mom was fully recovered and didn’t really need me anymore, but I still felt compelled to be there for her.
I loved her and almost losing her had scared the dickens out of me. I never wanted to go through that again though I knew eventually I would. Death couldn’t be avoided, and our loved ones weren’t immune. My parents had been my whole world for so long that the thought of being cut off from them was agonizing.
I could have left by now, could’ve headed back to California, but something held me here. A feeling of familiarity, maybe. The fear of what would happen when I drove my stake into the ground and declared my decision to leave. Taking a stand would drive a wedge between me and my parents—there was no doubt about that. How big a wedge was another question.
At the same time, the yearning to be with Dex was almost unbearable. I wiped a hand over my eyes and swallowed. That dream. It had been so vivid. Dex was holding me close, his strong arms wrapped around me. I could see his features so clearly, his gray eyes twinkling as he watched me, his lop-sided grin pulled up on one side. I wanted to reach out and run my fingertips over his face, feel his warm breath like a caress, watch his eyes dip to my lips and revel in the sensation.
“Tizzy, come home. I’m waiting for you.” The words vibrated through my body and left a longing that wouldn’t go away. I felt his love—it was real, almost tangible. It washed over me like a warm bath, like a ray of sunshine overhead that felt so good it was intoxicating.
But something had happened. I fought to remember what had woken me up, what had ripped me away from his embrace. Slowly, the memory came back to me little by little. “I have to go,” I’d said to him. “I can’t be with you anymore. We both knew it would never work.”
His eyes were mournful as if I’d gouged his heart out and thrown it on the ground. “No one ever chooses me,” he’d said. “Why should you be any different?” He stepped back, eyes glittering with hurt and betrayal. “It’s time for me to move on—for both of us to move on.” He turned and walked away, and I knew this was the last time I would ever see him.
I shuddered as overwhelming pain took over every muscle in my body, every organ, every part of me crumbling as if I were dying inside.
I sat up abruptly and swung my legs off the bed. It was just a dream.
Just a dream. That was all it was.
It wasn’t real.
I wouldn’t let it be real.
Chapter 21
Dex
The guys would laugh if they knew I was on my way to play golf with my father like a pretty boy at a country club. Golf of all things. I fit that image about as much as a wild boar belonged at a tea party.
I’d finally opened up to the guys about my past. Should’ve done it a long time ago. They were all supportive and let me know they supported me no matter what.
That made this a little easier, but still, I couldn’t picture myself golfing, much less fathom the reasons I’d agreed to do this. But here I was, on my way to meet Dad. It was a great day for a ride: the warmth of the sun on my face, the sky a deep blue with white, billowy clouds. The wind, blowing against me.
God had his hand on me, and I was right where I was supposed to be. Forgiving my father was not something that came easily, nor was the process over. Twenty-six years of built-up frustration had come to a head, boiled over, and now I was wiping up the mess.
But that was okay because sometimes life was messy. Everything couldn’t always be wrapped up in a perfect little box. He wasn’t my favorite person, but he was still my father. He’d made an effort by inviting me to see a glimpse of his world, and it was my turn to meet him halfway.
On the way over, I thought about a lot of things: how a lot had changed since I’d accepted the internship at Mitchell Manufacturing, the L.A. division. How—good or bad—my father was a regular part of my life now. I thought of Tizzy too, and how it had been two months since she’d gone home to take care of her mother.
I wanted to believe she’d be back, but with every day that passed, it seemed less and less likely. Her mother had thyroid surgery. The recovery time was two weeks—I looked it up. I didn’t know her mother’s situation or her health concerns, so perhaps her recovery really did take two months or more. On the other hand, maybe Tizzy wasn’t coming. I shouldn’t think that way, but I would be a fool if it didn’t at least cross my mind. Whirlwind romances burned out all the time, and sometimes they ended as abruptly as ours had. Life went on and people forgot…
I, on the other hand, could never forget her. That would never happen. We still communicated on Facebook, but she was slowly slipping away. Her parents were pushing some Jacob guy on her, and she was feeling guilty because of her mother’s health crisis. She was having a hard time out there. I wanted to come, but she had said it was best if I didn’t.
So, I had to wait. And I would…for as long as it took. As long as Tizzy still wanted me in her life. Sometimes the sadness of her leaving felt like a real loss, like a death, even though I understood that was not the case.
An ache settled in the base of my stomach, and it hadn’t gone away since she’d stepped on that plane, bound for Pennsylvania.
The yearning to see her again almost overpowered me at times, but she had to make the next step. It was up to her now. I wouldn’t force myself into her life. If a future existed for us, she would have to choose me, despite whatever obstacles stood in the way. Maybe it was because my father didn’t choose me growing up—I needed to know that she would.
When I arrived at the country club, I parked and met my father at the front. We were supposed to have lunch first, and though he’d told me this place was rather swanky, I’d dressed in jeans and my leather jacket. He’d have to take me as I was or not take me at all.
“Dexter, glad you could make it,” my father said, slapping me on the back. He eyed my clothes but didn’t say a word. Smart move.
A hostess seated us, and we made small talk until a waiter came to take our orders. When our food arrived, I tried not to snicker at the curly-cue vegetables and the fancy-schmancy presentation. None of this was what I was used to.
My father told a joke that wasn’t funny, and I forced myself to laugh. There was a lot of awkward conversation and neither of us knew what to say. And then he grew very, very serious, and my brows lowered as if catching on to his mood.
“I’ve been pondering a few things,” he said, speaking slowly as if weighing his words. “You believe you are the forgotten son. I want you to know that not a day passed when I didn’t think of you, Dexter.” He pulled a picture frame out of a plastic bag and showed it to me. It was one of those frames that held two, five-by-seven pictures. On the left side was a picture of me—I must have been about three years old at the time—and on the right side was another young boy, who I assumed was my brother.
“This sat on the dresser next to my bed, and every night before I went to sleep, I looked at you and wished you were with me.” Tears slipped down his cheeks. I’d never seen him this humble before. “I was a deadbeat dad—I know that. I can never retrieve those years back, and what pains me most of all is that I hurt you.” His voice trembled on the last words. He hung his head, unable to look at me. “Don’t ever think you’re the replacement son. I loved Garrett, but I also loved you and still do. When it all comes down to it, I don’t deserve your forgiveness or to have you sitting here with me right now.”
He’d already declared to the world on national television that I was his son, but now it was just the two of us, dealing with the reality of our relationship.
I don’t deserve your forgiveness. Those words triggered something in me. None of us deserved the Lord’s forgiveness, but we had it. All we had to do was believe in Him and ask, and He gave it freely. Yet here I was, holding back because I had nursed bitterness in my heart for so long. Yes, he’d hurt me, and yes, what he’d done was despicable, but it was time to let go. My attitude had already been changing slowly over the past two months, but I had never voiced that. I had never given him the gift of my forgiveness.
I leaned closer and put a hand on his shoulder. “I forgive you, Dad.” I said it so quietly it was almost a whisper. “I’m ready to move forward.”
He burst into loud weeping and jumped out of his seat, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me in for a desperate bear hug that caught the attention of everyone around us. He kept saying, “My son, my son,” and all the other patrons stared at us in bewilderment.
He didn’t care what anyone thought.
And neither did I.
It was the moment we both needed.
Chapter 22
Tizzy
“It’s been two months, Mom. The doctor said you’ve made a full recovery, and as long as you continue taking your medication, you’ll be fine.” My suitcase was on top of my bed, and I was putting the last of my skirts and blouses in. After zipping it up, I placed it on the floor and pulled out the handle. “It’s time for me to go.”
“Please don’t do this,” Mom pleaded. “Jacob likes you. He’s willing to give you another chance after that unfortunate encounter the two of you had.”
I couldn’t help myself—I laughed. “Give me a chance?” She said it like Jacob would have to stoop down to my level in order to be with me.
When I’d refused to set up a meeting with Jacob, they’d forced one at church, but I’d made it clear to him and his parents that I wasn’t interested in a match. There had been a huge blowup, and Mom and Dad barely spoke to me for a couple of days after that.
“Bottom line,” I said, “I’m not willing to give him a chance. I’m in love with Dex, and that hasn’t changed.”
“It should, considering his background,” Mom said, wrinkling her nose.
Once I’d turned down Jacob, everything had been out in the open regarding Dex. I’d told Mom about him, and I’d never seen her so angry.
To make things even more complicated, after the press release about Dex being the long-lost son of Weston Mitchell, the media did a little digging into his past. It wasn’t everywhere per se, but there were a few articles, and Mom and Dad had seen them. They knew he was the result of an affair. It didn’t matter that Dex was innocent in all that. It also didn’t matter when I reminded them that Dex was responsible for Dad’s gambling debt being paid off—something my dad still managed to keep quiet about. There was a lot of hypocrisy going on, but my parents refused to look at themselves.
When it all came down to it, Dex didn’t go to our church, and his parents didn’t bring him up the same way my parents raised me, therefore, they would not accept him, future billionaire status or not.
“You’re judging him unfairly,” I said. “He has a tender heart, and a kindness and compassion for people that is unrivaled by anyone at our church.”
“Let’s just…forget about him. The main issue here is you. You’re needed at home.”
Mom had recovered within a few weeks. I’d remained longer because I felt guilty. I knew that my leaving would be a major stressor in her life, and I didn’t want to be the cause of more health issues—so I stayed—amidst all the constant talk of Jacob. Amidst all the looks I received at church because Peter had told everyone I involved myself with the wrong people. Amidst my parents trying to pretend that nothing had changed, and I was still the same little girl who never questioned anything.
I was not that little girl anymore.
That little girl died the day Peter left her on the street with those angry picketers, and she was forced to take a good look at her future.
God had done a lot in my life, and I had no doubts about what I was doing. My parents wanted to hold me under a system that wasn’t even truly God-honoring, and it was a burden I was no longer willing to bear.
I pulled my suitcase to the living room and peeked out the front window. A cab was outside, waiting to take me to the airport. Thankfully, I had a small savings leftover from when I’d worked at Bailey Mechanics—just enough to pay for my cab fare to the airport and buy my plane ticket to California. When I glanced behind me, Dad’s face had gone completely red, his fists opening and closing.
“Tirzah, this is wrong. We didn’t raise you to behave this way. How can you do this to your mother?”
“I’m not doing this to either one of you. I’m doing this because it’s time for me to make my own decisions, and I can’t do that as long as I’m here. I love you both, and I always will. I hope you will eventually be okay with this, but if you’re not, that’s out of my hands. It’s between you and the Lord now.”
I’d given them a letter earlier in the week with a list of my objections to some of the teachings at our church, along with verses that contradicted those teachings. I’d thought through each and every objection, and while I didn’t dislike any of the people in the church, I hated a system that lifted a pristine image over true repentance and a heart for God. Pretending to be good while covering up sin, was not something I wanted to be a part of, especially when those same people pointed the finger at others.
“If you do th
is,” Dad said, “you will be dead to us. You will no longer be our daughter.”
“Please, Tirzah,” Mom said, tears sliding down her face. “I’m begging you, please don’t leave.”
Tears flowed from my eyes even though I tried my best to contain them. I had to be strong, but this might be the last time I would ever see the two of them if Dad stayed true to his word. I set my suitcase down and rushed into my mother’s arms, hugging her tightly as our bodies shook from the force of our crying. And then I hugged my father. His embrace was stiff, not at all the warm reception he usually gave me. But it was all I would get at this point—so I would take whatever he was willing to offer.
I picked up my suitcase handle and walked out the door, wiping my eyes and blowing out a quick breath, and then I got in the cab and never looked back.
***
I strode down the jetway to the airport terminal at LAX, anticipation curling in my stomach at the thought of seeing Grandpa. I wanted to feel his comforting arms around me and hear his steady, wise voice. There was a lingering sadness after leaving Mom and Dad, knowing they might refuse to talk to me again, but God infused me with an overwhelming peace that wrapped around my body like a shield. It would be okay. Everything would be okay, however it worked out.
Walking down the jetway felt very different from the first time I’d done it. But now California would be my new home, not just a place to visit. I’d given Grandpa the date and hour of my arrival, and I knew he would be there waiting for me. I hadn’t told Dex because I wanted to surprise him, and Grandpa was all for that idea. He promised not to say a word.
“Tizzy.” The deep voice came from behind as I searched the crowd.
I whipped around and saw a man with bright blue eyes and hair the color of steel. “Grandpa!” I let go of my carry-on bag and ran into his arms.
Blind Date with a Billionaire Biker (Blind Date Disasters Book 3) Page 20