Free The Light of Day by Kristen Kehoe Page B

home.”
                  He doesn’t ask and I get the feeling it’s because he doesn’t think he has a right to, but I can sense the question that statement prompts: will you be all right by yourself?
                  I nod.  “Next month, actually.”  He nods and sips from his water again.  I clear my throat this time.  “I’m thinking of moving back to Portland.”
                  His expression clears for just a second, but in that timeframe I see what appears to be genuine happiness on his face before he schools his features back into quiet interest and he’s just a polite stranger again.  It’s odd how for that small space of time, I wanted him to be happy that I was moving back, and more, I wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him how sorry I am.  For nothing, for everything, just, sorry.  But I don’t and we move on from the moment.
    “Will you be moving next month as well, then?”  I nod.  So does he.  Then he takes a deep breath.  “You know you’re more than welcome to move back… we haven’t changed your room.  It’s there if you want it.”
                  Uncomfortable, I nod my thanks.  “I’m actually going to live with someone.  A friend, sort of.  He’s more like Ryan’s friend, but he’s moving, too, so we thought it would be a good idea to go together.”
                  My dad’s nodding before I finish speaking, his head punctuating each of my words.  “Of course.  Well, it will still be good to have you close.  We’ve, uh, we’ve missed you.  I’ve missed you,” he says, and I hear the sincerity in his voice.
    Wishing again that I was more, that I could give him more, I reach out and touch his arm, waiting until his eyes meet mine.  “I’ve missed you, too, Dad.  I’ll come by the house when I get there.  We can have dinner and you can tell me about the new mansion Uncle Tommy has commissioned you to build.”
    “I’d like that.”
    A few minutes later, the bride and groom are announced and I say goodbye to him before walking over to take my place around the dance floor and watch them.  They’ve chosen something old for their song, with a hint of blues to it, and while the female vocalist croons about never letting go, I watch the couple sway.  Mia chose a simple strapless dress in white, with an empire waist and sweetheart neckline.  The sweetheart top is lightly jeweled, separated from the skirt with a sheer white band, and the skirt is full and flowing without a train.  Her hair is pinned back from her face with a Swarovski hair comb that was our grandmother’s, and then left to flow down her back in heavy waves.  She’s a vintage princess, elegant in her simple dress and hair.
    Ryan went for a tie instead of a bow tie with his tux, and the slim fit of the jacket makes him look twice as sexy as normal.  Together, they make a breathtaking couple, only more so when his fingers slide from her waist to lose themselves in her hair while he brings his forehead to hers.  It’s such an intimate moment I almost feel like the rest of us are intruding.
    “She really is an angel,” Jake says in my ear and I hate that goose bumps pop out over my skin.  “Though, I have to say with everything I’ve heard by way of wedding torture stories, I’m not understanding the rumor about ugly bridesmaids.”
    I smile because it’s true.  Our dresses are strapless tea length champagne silk that nip in at the waist and flare out into a skirt.  Auntie Mags almost had a coronary when Mia told her we weren’t wearing floor length, but that didn’t stop Mia.  Just as she didn’t give in to the heavy pressure to have the wedding somewhere more formal or somewhere exotic.  She and Ryan met in Verrado, that’s their place, that’s where they wanted to be married.  While I myself would rather be on the beach, I can appreciate her sentiment.
    When the bride and groom dance ends, the father