“I know you’re busy,” Gray said.
“I’ve spent my whole life being busy. I think you and I need to talk.” He used his key card and let them into an empty suite. The lights came on.
“Something to drink?” his father asked.
“I’m good right now, thanks.”
“Okay. I’m going to grab a glass of water, if you don’t mind. All this talking makes me thirsty.”
Gray waited while his father put some ice in a glass and poured water from the well-stocked bar. He looked out the window at the convention center and the city ahead.
“You’re damn good at what you do, Gray. I’m sorry I missed it until now.”
He turned to face his father. “Well, you’ve been busy.”
“I need to be less busy.”
Gray’s lips lifted. “If you and Cameron win this election, I imagine you’ll be more busy.”
His father let out a soft laugh. “You’re probably right. Hell of a thing, huh?”
“I guess so.” He leaned against the windowsill. “I didn’t know about your heart attack. I wasn’t listening when you reached out. Are you okay?”
“Healthier than I’ve ever been in my life, thanks to some amazing doctors and your very pushy mother who makes sure I eat all the right things and exercise.”
“Good for Mom. And I’m sorry.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I wasn’t there for you when you needed a father. And for the times I was, I was a shitty father. I can’t make up for that, son. I did everything wrong.”
Emotion tightened within him, all these feelings, all the things he wanted to say but had held inside his whole life.
“Go ahead,” his father said. “Say what’s on your mind.”
“I hated you, resented you for picking politics over me. And it hurt to not see you in the stands during my games.”
His father nodded. “Like I said, I did it all wrong. I’ll never be able to make up for what I missed. You’re such a goddamn good athlete. What you can do with a car— Jesus, Gray, it’s magnificent watching you drive.”
The pride and awe in his voice was real. It was so real it was painful. “Thanks.”
“And this is what you should be doing—what you should have always been doing.
I didn’t understand it then. I do now. I can never take back the things I said or the way I said them. I can only apologize for saying them. You made the right choice.
You’d have been a terrible politician, but you’re one hell of an auto racer. Life’s way too short not to do what you love. Always do what you love.”
Gray nodded. “I have been, Dad.”
“So you’re happy.”
“Never been happier.”
“And does that happiness include Evelyn?”
Gray cocked a brow. “Evelyn?”
His dad set his glass of water down and stood. “You know, it’s my job to be observant. I see the way the two of you lock gazes. Reminds me of me and your mother, the way we were when we first fell in love. And when we fell in love again.”
His dad smiled. “So . . . you and Evelyn?”
He wasn’t prepared to have this kind of conversation with his father. “I . . . don’t know. We have two different lifestyles. She wants a career in politics.”
“And you’d deny her that?”
Gray frowned. “Hell no. She should have everything she wants.”
His father smiled. “Good. I agree. She’s amazing and smart and talented and ambitious, but also sweet and loving. Your mother adores her. So does your sister. I could see the two of you together.”
This was the most bizarre conversation he’d ever had with his father.
“I don’t know how I could make it work.”
“You were always a smart boy, Grayson. And you’ve been able to have everything you’ve ever wanted. If the two of you are meant to be together, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
TWENTY-SIX
GRAY FOUND EVELYN IN HIS PARENTS’ SUITE, SHE AND his mother huddled together on the sofa. She stood to face him.
“Yes, Dad and I talked. We didn’t hug or anything, but I think we’re going to be okay.”
He saw the relief on his mother’s face. “I’m glad. For both of you.”
He hugged his mom. “Me, too.”
They visited for a while, then he and Evelyn left to head back to the racetrack.
Mentally exhausted, all he wanted to do was go to bed, close his eyes, and clear his head.
Evelyn was great about reading his moods, because she didn’t grill him about his conversation with his father, just climbed into bed with him and laid her head against his chest.
Surprisingly, though, he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t shut off the thousands of thoughts going through his mind. He finally sat up and turned on the light.
Evelyn scooted up against the pillows and drew her knees up to her chest.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
He thought for a few minutes, then said, “I understand so much now, and I get the whole forgiveness thing. But I feel like I have all these years of anger and resentment that I’m supposed to just let go of instantly.”
“But you can’t. Not just yet.”