Dad rises when Royal walks in. The air is thick, the mood tense, but within seconds, Royal extends his hand.
“Sir,” he says. “Good to see you.”
Dad nods, gripping his hand tight. “Have a seat.”
“Bliss,” Royal smiles at Mom, and she smiles back, her eyes glassy and her hand on her heart. I’m sure seeing him like this, all grown up after so much time has passed, brings up a lot of emotions for the woman who once loved him like he was one of her very own.
Royal tugs the white envelope from his pants pocket before he sits, unfolding it and pulling out a sheet of paper.
I have no idea what it is, and I sure as hell didn’t know he was bringing anything with him today. All he told me was that he wanted to talk to my parents.
“This is for you.” He hands the papers to my father, who adjusts his glasses and squints as he reads.
Dad’s chin juts out with each passing second, and then he tilts his head. When he’s finished, he folds it up and nods, giving Royal a softer glance.
“What? What is it?” Mom asks. “What does it say?”
“It’s a copy of a police statement,” Dad says. “Royal’s accuser, Misty Lockhart, has retracted her statement and accusation.”
Mom’s face lights, her hands clasping over her chest. Her eyes move from Dad’s to Royal’s and back.
“When did that happen?” I throw my arms around Royal. “I had no idea. You didn’t tell me . . .”
“It came today, along with a letter from the district attorney in Saint Charmaine.” He fights a smile that threatens to take over his entire face. “They’re working on clearing my name.”
“Oh, my God.” I squeeze him tighter. “Royal.”
“I know,” he says, burying his face in my neck.
Dad clears his throat, and I release Royal from my embrace. My father stands, and Royal follows suit.
“I need to get to the office,” Dad says.
“Robert.” Mom gives him a sideways look.
My father is rarely wrong about anything; he’ll be the first to point that out. Which means he rarely apologizes.
“Royal.” Dad extends his hand once more, and Royal meets it. “We’ve missed you around here, and I’m extremely pleased to find that your accuser is retracting her statement. Please accept my apologies for doubting you. I hope you understand that it was nothing personal.”
It’s a formal apology, and my father is completely stoic and almost red-faced, but the fact that he’s admitting he’s wrong makes this a moment for the Rosewood history books.
“Sir, you were just doing what you felt you had to do to protect your daughter,” Royal says. “I respect that, and I would have done the same had I been in your shoes.”
God, I bet it kills him to say that, but his words hold a genuine quality that can’t be faked.
Their hands release, and Dad gives him a nod. They linger, eyes locked in a mutual show of respect until Mom intervenes with a bear hug for Royal.
“My goodness,” she says when she finishes. Her hands rest on his face, and she peers into his eyes like she’s attempting to peek into his soul. “You’re so grown. You’re not a little boy anymore.”
“No, ma’am,” he says.
She wraps her arms around him harder, breathing him in, and her lips arch into a warm smile. This moment is just as healing for her as it is for him.
“I’ve missed your cooking,” Royal says with a tease in his voice.
Mom laughs, peeling herself from him but holding on to his muscled arms. “Stay for lunch? I’ll make whatever you want.”
Royal places his hand across his heart. “I’d love to, Bliss, but I have to work today.”
“Why don’t you come for Sunday supper?” she asks. “I’ll invite Derek. You can meet our granddaughter, Haven.”
Royal looks at me, and I nod.
“I’d love that,” he says. “I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Royal
“Hey, asshole.” Pandora’s the first to greet me when I arrive to work Friday morning. Yesterday I was “douche lord.” The day before that I was “asshat.” Monday I was a “fucking prick.”
I ignore her like I’ve done all week, punching in and heading outside to pull in a rear-ended Audi on today’s schedule.
For the next several hours, Pandora shoots death looks my way from behind the glass window that separates the front desk from the shop, and I avoid going near the lobby at all costs.
I have to get out of here.
I have to get away from that crazy bitch.
When lunch rolls around, I exit a rear door and walk clear around the building just so I don’t have to walk past her, only as soon as I come around the corner, I find her sitting on my hood.