Love Abstract (The Art of Falling Book 2) by B.L. Berry

persuaded to act as less of a father toward me.
    “Oh, Ivy. There are a million reasons. But we aren’t very good for each other. At least not anymore. As we got older, we simply grew apart rather than together, and now we both want very different things out of life.”
    I nod in understanding. Growing together seems to be at the core of every successful relationship. And my mom much preferred to be a raging selfish bitch rather than grow as a person. As a couple. Good for him for putting himself out of his misery.
    “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy for you, Dad.”
    He nods and exhales slowly, clearly still carrying a burden on his shoulders.
    “That’s not all …” he continues softly, worry suddenly streaking down his face. “Now, what I’m about to tell you, I don’t want it to make you upset.”
    I look over my shoulder wishing Phoenix would magically appear. He gives me strength, and something in my dad’s face tells me I’m going to need all the strength I can get.
    “It doesn’t change how I feel about you at all. But it’s something I’ve suspected for years.”
    How he feels about me?
    I pull my hand out from his to cross my arms and shift in my seat.
    “Dad, you’re scaring me.”
    “I really don’t know how to say this …” His eyes wander around the room, looking at everything but me.
    “Dad!”
    “You’re not my daughter,” he whispers and my insides drop to the floor. I feel as if I could throw up. “No, no. I mean, you are my daughter and always will be. You’re just … not mine. Biologically.”
    He fumbles over his words as my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. I swallow hard, reining in the need to vomit. It’s hard to fight the feeling when you’re suddenly this light-headed.
    “But it doesn’t mean that I love you any less because you will always be my daughter in every sense of the word. And I will always be your dad.”
    I don’t hear anything else he says over the pulsing beat of my heart in my ears. My hands tremble, and I close my eyes, trying my best to force a calming breath. The phrase not my daughter rings through my mind and leaves a biting taste in my mouth. He keeps talking, but I have no idea what he’s saying.
    The one sliver of a redeeming person in my family isn’t really my family. I’m not even of his blood. And just because I share her blood doesn’t make her my family.
    I finally have the answer I’ve been looking for.
    Since birth, I have been a thorn in my mother’s side.
    And now I know exactly why ... I am a constant reminder of her infidelity and she resents me.
    I’ve wasted so much of my young life trying to figure out just what I did to her to make her hate me so much. I always just assumed it was because I was the rebel who couldn’t be contained.
    But this ?
    This explains so much.
    The never-ending disapproval. The constant comparison to Genevieve, Mother’s golden daughter. How her glare spoke volumes of loathing and contempt.
    My thoughts shift outward when I feel him grabbing both of my shoulders, giving me a gentle shake. Sorrow pools in his eyes and instantly shatters what is left of my heart.
    “I love you, Ivy. And that will never change.”
    He may not be my father, but this man most certainly is my dad.
     
     
    THAT NIGHT IN BED, PHOENIX curls up against my back and wraps his arms around me. I’ve been an incoherent mess since my dad left, but his very presence gives me sanity.
    He switches from running his fingers through my hair to tracing his hands over my arm. His breath is hot as it skims the back of my neck each time he exhales, enveloping me in a warm embrace.
    Phoenix brings his face down close to my ear. “I know there isn’t anything I can do or say right now to take away the hurt you’re feeling. But I want you to know if I could, I would—in a heartbeat. You’re not just someone important thing to me, Ivy. You’re my everything.”
    I roll over to face Phoenix and he thumbs away a rogue tear