All I Ever Wanted

Once a Player, Always a Player

Hey guys! So I'm back from my grandma's so I'll try to update more frequently. Anyways, this story is coming to an end, maybe only about three chapters left. don't hate me when you read this chapter, I've got everything planned out ;)

Don't forget to comment, vote and fan!

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Chapter Twenty Four

It's a known saying that time flies, and honestly, with the way it passes quickly you can't really deny it, but these past two days have dragged by so slowly, you would think there was a hundred hours in a day and not twenty four. Or maybe it was just me. 

Either way, Friday was finally here and I was beyond nervous. Excited too, but mostly nervous. With butterflies in my stomach, I made my way downstairs to eat some breakfast. I found my dad at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee while reading the news paper. I blinked in surprise when I saw him wearing a navy blue suit. 

"What's with the suit?" I asked as I poured myself a bowl of cereal. 

"I have a meeting with a gallery owner in half an hour. He's offering to show some of my paintings in an exposition in New York in three months. This could be my big break." 

"Wow, dad. That's impressive. I really hope things go well." I sat down on the chair across from him.

"So are you introducing a new line or presenting an old one?" I asked with a mouth full of Cheerio's. 

"A new one actually. I've been working on this one for quite a while and I think it's time I showed it."

"What's it called?"

"Nadia."

I frowned. Who the hell was Nadia? "Who's that? Your girlfriend?"

My dad choked on the coffee he was drinking. " W-what?" he spluttered. 

"So is she?" I prodded. I tried to act like asking this question didn't bother me, buy it really did. I really hoped I was wrong about this and jumping to conclusions like I did when I first met Grace.

"Of course not!" he denied. 

"Your secret wife then?" I really, really hoped I was wrong. 

"No!" he actually looked offended when I said that. "I loved your mother, Nadine. I still do." 

I looked down at the cereal floating around in the milk in my bowl. "Then why did you leave?" I asked quietly. I hadn't asked him this question since that night.  It had kept on nagging me all the time, but I never asked again. I think it was because I was afraid of his answer. I was afraid that his reason wouldn't be good enough and I would get hurt again. 

And I really, really didn't want to get hurt again. He had hurt me enough. 

He sighed, "I- I still can't tell you."

I didn't push it. He said he would tell me in his own time, he promised. Only that's not what happened. I wanted to know. I had to. I had put up with six years of pain because of him and I deserved to know. Six years of hard work. Six years of thinking I wasn't good enough. Sure, I wasn't in pain anymore because of my father, but his absence had left scars. And scars never left. 

"Please, dad?"

He stared at the insides of his coffee mug as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. 

"I can't," he said simply.

Tears burned at my eyes. Why wouldn't he tell me already? I had waited long enough for him to answer this stupid, simple question. One that had been eating at me for years now. But it wasn't a stupid, simple question. That was the problem. It was more than that. My forgiving him completely depended on his answer. If it wasn't good enough I knew it might damage our relationship completely. And he knew it too.