Yet Blake could tell by the look in his father’s eyes that he was telling the truth. He also knew how much it must’ve cost him to utter those words out loud. Joe Ryan was a proud man, and he didn’t admit to his faults often, if ever. His logic may be twisted and fucked up, but it made sense—to him.
“Then why are you here now? What changed?” Blake eyed the bottle of scotch on his shelf longingly. He could use a stiff drink, if only so he didn’t pass out from shock. There were few things as disorienting as having what you’d always considered a truth be flipped upside down.
First Cleo, now my dad. That’s twice in one month. I’m setting a damned record.
Joe scratched his chin with an awkward frown. “I thought about what you said at my party. About me being a shitty father.”
Guilt twisted in Blake’s gut. “I didn’t mean to blow up on you on your birthday.”
“Seemed like it was a long time coming,” Joe said dryly. “Ya know, I honestly didn’t think it would bother you that I told Pete to host the kickoff at his house instead of Legends. It’s what we’ve always done. But I guess I’m not the best at sussing that sort of stuff out.” Another scratch of his chin. “I admit I haven’t been…the best father over the years. I wanted to skip New York, too, ya know. Wanted to keep avoiding the issue. But your mother and sister blew up at me. They took your side.”
His mom went against his dad? The shockers kept coming.
“Anyway.” The discomfort returned to Joe’s face. “I figured it was time I stopped running and had a talk with you. Man to man. And I know this is the biggest opening you’ve had so far. You did a good job,” he added gruffly. “A really good job. I’m proud of you.”
I’m proud of you.
Blake had waited his whole life to hear those words come out of his father’s mouth. Now that they had, his brain nearly exploded trying to comprehend them. Joe might as well be reciting Ulysses in Latin.
A strange warmth dripped from Blake’s heart to his stomach, where it pooled into a puddle of pride and disbelief.
“It wasn’t all me.” Blake cleared his throat. “My team did a fantastic job.”
While he oversaw the strategy and vision, his
team members were the ones who’d turned his vision into reality. They were the bedrock of Legends, and Blake treated them as such. He’d be nowhere without his team.
“That they did. Well, good talk. I’m going to head downstairs.” Joe stood. He’d clearly reached his bonding limit for the night. “Lord knows your mother and sister get into all sorts of trouble when they’re around margaritas.”
Last Blake saw, Helen and Joy had been busy gawking at Zane, a famous male model and LNY’s celebrity bartender of the night.
“Wait.”
His father froze.
Blake licked his lips. “I got a new bottle of scotch yesterday.” He tilted his head toward said bottle on the shelf. “Straight from Scotland. Want to try it with me?”
The olive branch stretched between them, taut with hesitation.
Joe’s eyes traveled between the scotch and Blake’s face. He settled into his chair again with a shadow of a smile. “I’d love to.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“I can’t believe it’s midnight.” Farrah stifled a yawn. “At the risk of sounding like a grandma, the last time I stayed out this late was…”
With Blake.
She winced.
Farrah had done a damn good job of pushing Blake into the darkest corner of her mind, and she wasn’t going to unravel that progress now. Not when she was on a date with another man.
“I don’t remember,” she mumbled.
Paul’s eyes crinkled into a smile as he threaded his fingers through hers. “I’m honored you broke your late-night rule for me.”
“It’s not so much a rule as a coincidence,” Farrah decided. “I coincidentally fall asleep around ten every night.”
He laughed. “Regardless, I’m happy we stayed up. I had a great time.”