He escorted me out to the dance floor, other bodies swaying to the tune, and grabbed my hand in his, leading me with ease.
“It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it?” he commented after we had moved in silence to the classic tune for a while. Things felt awkward around him when, just months ago, I had been incredibly comfortable in his presence. Now he was aloof, standoffish, unreadable.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing, really. Just how sometimes when you lose all hope of things going your way, of finally getting everything you’ve dreamed of and wanted for so long, something happens to bring the light back into your life, giving you that renewed drive.”
“Jenna told you about why I left Tyler, didn’t she?”
“Not the details, just that he wasn’t the man you thought he was, yet you learned to look past all that. It must have been difficult.”
“Actually,” I began, “it wasn’t. I realized that, despite the lies he told me, his love was still true.” I paused for a moment, trying to find a way to put into words how I felt. My eyes met Tyler’s from several feet away, a hammering starting in my chest from that one look. It told me everything I ever needed. How he loved me, craved me, cherished me, worshiped me. That he would walk through fire to keep me at his side, just as I would for him.
A warmth filled me as I tore my eyes from Tyler’s and back to Richard’s. “Have you ever loved someone so much that, even though you knew the two of you didn’t make sense together, you couldn’t stay away? Even when those around you said it would never work out, you couldn’t help but hold on to that small kernel of hope that it would?”
I looked up to see Richard staring off into the distance, his face relaxed, as if recalling some rather pleasant memories. Swallowing hard, he said, “Yes, I have.” His eyes glimmered from the reflection of the moon on the water and I could almost see the forming of unshed tears.
“Richard, is everything–”
“Jenna…” He cleared his throat, returning his attention to me. “Hell, look at the two of us. We’re not exactly your traditional couple, are we? I’m twice her age.”
I eyed him skeptically, trying to figure out if I caught him in a lie or whether he was really thinking about Jenna. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right about Richard. Maybe Jenna was on to something when she thought he had been cheating on her.
“Richard, are you–”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” my father’s voice cut through as the music changed to a Spanish-influenced tune, the sound of drums and a guitar filling the air.
“Dad,” I said, tearing away from Richard’s arms. “This is Jenna’s husband, Richard. Richard, this is my father, Francis.”
Richard tentatively held his hand out to my father, studying him, lingering on the scars on the left side of his face. He probably had questions about what happened to him, and whether it had something to do with me lying about his existence. “Nice to meet you,” he said, his voice and motions guarded as he cautiously took my father’s hand in his.
“You, as well, Richard,” my father responded, returning his curious gaze, as if he had seen him somewhere before and was trying to place him. I knew exactly where he had seen him… Richard’s face was practically everywhere due to the success of his hotels. That was why he liked living in South Padre so much. No one there made a big deal about who he was. Most of the tourists were too drunk to focus on his face, and none of the locals cared.
“Well, you two enjoy your dance,” Richard said, pulling his hand away from my father’s. “Congratulations, Mackenzie.” He placed a soft kiss on my temple. “And congratulations to you, as well, sir.” He took my father’s hand once more and whispered something in his ear. A brilliant smile crossed my father’s face as he slapped Richard jovially on the back, his laughter echoing in the crisp night air. Then Richard walked toward Jenna, slinking his arm around her waist and kissing her affectionately. It helped settle my unease about his faithfulness toward her.
“Promise to take it easy on your old man?” my father asked with a twinkle in his eye.
“Are you sure you’re up to it?” I countered, giving him a playful grin. “If I remember Mom’s stories correctly, she said you couldn’t dance the Flamenco to save your life.”
“And she was right, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to dance with you.”
“Okay,” I said, placing my hand in his. “You asked for it. It’s a good thing I’m pregnant and ready to pop, or I’m pretty sure I’d be wiping the dance floor with you.”
“I have no doubt about that.” He led me a few steps toward the center of the now empty dance floor, the eyes of my friends and family on us. I hadn’t done this exact dance in years, but I settled back into it as if no time had passed at all, as if it were permanently ingrained in my muscle memory.
Glancing at my father, I noticed him almost in a trance, his eyes focused straight ahead.
“You’re not that bad,” I joked, trying to bring his attention back to me.
Slowly returning his gaze to mine, a small smile crossed his face as he continued to go through the intricate steps with a slight limp, forgoing his cane for the first time I could recall.
“Ah, mi bichito. Your mother was the picture of grace when she danced, much like you. I’m just an Irish bloke lucky enough to stumble across her one day and she changed my life for the better. Much like Tyler did for you.”
“You think he changed my life for the better?” I asked as the rhythm of the drums grew more intense and frenzied.
“I think you both changed each other’s lives for the better,” he said warmly. “And that’s something worth holding on to.”
“Mind if I cut in?” Tyler’s voice sounded and I stopped my motions to see his hand held out.
“Not at all,” my father said, releasing his hold on me.
“You know how to dance the Flamenco?” I asked in surprise.
“A wise woman once said that any man who learned to dance the Flamenco for her was a man worth marrying.”
My eyes went to my dad, a look of nostalgia on his face as he recalled my mother saying those words to him.
“So I figured it was only fitting that I learned this dance to prove to you that I was a man worth marrying.”
“You’ve already proven that, and then some,” my father said, placing his hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “You take care of my little girl, okay?”
“Of course, sir.”
A satisfied smile crossing his face, my dad leaned down and softly kissed me on my temple. “Goodbye, mi bichito,” he whispered. “I’ll be seeing you.”
“Wait!” I shouted as he turned to walk away from me. “You’re leaving?”
He nodded. “You enjoy your night. We’ll see each other again.”
“When?” I asked.
“At this point, I do believe it’s out of my hands.”
My chin quivered, a lump in my throat. I knew he wasn’t expecting to see me again, not in this world anyway. I refused to consider that to be a reality. My father had survived this long and I knew he would get through whatever other challenges he was about to face.
“Shall we?” Tyler said, breaking through my thoughts. I nodded, still distant as I tried to put on a smile and pretend everything was okay. I held my hand to him and he pulled me into his body, both of us pausing for a beat before moving to the rhythm of the music that had filled my soul for years.
My life had always been a strange series of tragic events, the memories of the happier times I spent with my family always painful. But as I stared into Tyler’s brilliant green eyes – those green eyes that wouldn’t leave my dreams from the first time I saw them – I no longer felt that pain. I finally had everything of which I had ever dreamed. I was living proof that fairytales did come true.