Pulling a massive box out the trunk, a voice stopped me dead in my tracks. “Hello, son. Need a hand?”

I swallowed hard at the sound of my father’s voice, and my entire body stiffened in preparation for the argument I knew was about to happen.

I leaned back with the box in hand. “No thanks. I’m pretty good at taking care of myself these days.”

My father flinched and satisfaction shot through me knowing my words had the possibility of hurting him just as much as his did to me. “Son, please. Can we talk?”

I shook my head and turned to take the box down to the deck. I didn’t have time to do this now. Out of all the opportunities for him to speak to me, he chose now? On the biggest fucking day of my life?

I set the box down and turned around, nearly colliding with Dad as he set the box he carried down beside mine.

He wasn’t taking the hint to get lost. I folded my arms across my chest and stared at him expectantly. He hadn’t changed too much since the last time I saw him over four years ago. His height matched mine, but his build was slighter. The hair on his head was clean cut just as I remembered, only now it was salt and pepper versus the dark color I was used to seeing. That was the only sign of aging I saw on him.

Dad shoved his hands on his hips, clearly uncomfortable. “Look, Noel, I know when we last saw each other, things ended on a bad note. I said some things—things I should’ve never said—and I’m sorry.”

I rolled my eyes as a sarcastic laugh that I couldn’t stop escaped my lips. “You’re sorry? For what? Making the mistake of having a son that is only a disappointment to you? Because really, I got it the first time. I don’t need you to come back and tell me again.”

Dad ran his hand through his hair. It was a trait I picked up from him when we didn’t know what to say next. “I was an asshole. I just didn’t want you to throw your life away and I was angry. I shouldn’t have said that, and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret saying that to you.”

Those were the words I had longed to hear him say for four fucking long years. I held his unwavering gaze. He meant what he said. I threw my head back and closed my eyes. His apology rang in my ears. “Why now?”

A ragged breath of his filled the silence. “Because I wanted to do it in person. I wanted to make sure you’d hear me out. When your mother told me about your project here today, I figured this was the perfect time to get you alone, and I hoped you’d listen to me.”

I opened my eyes and stared at him, unsure of what to say in return.

“You don’t have to accept it. It was harsh, and I’ve hated myself everyday for saying it to you.” He took a tentative step towards me. “But I want you to know I didn’t mean it. You’re not a disappointment. If anything, I’m a disappointment to myself.”

Dad was just as hot-headed as I was. Matter of fact that was where I got my temper from. Quick mouths were an undeniable trait in the Falcon gene pool. God knew I said so many things I didn’t mean in my life in the heat of anger. I’d ask for forgiveness from Lane for the very same thing in the past few weeks. It would’ve been totally hypocritical to deny my father the chance to prove he was sorry, wouldn’t it?

I bit my lip and nodded, agreeing with my own internal thought. Before I could say a word, Dad grabbed me into a huge hug, nearly squeezing the life out of me, taking my head gesture as a sign of acceptance.

I stiffened, but once inside his embrace, memories of the last time he hugged me flooded my brain. Graduation day—he was so proud. Both he and Mom knew what a struggle school had been for me growing up with dyslexia, so to them, it was huge that I had made it to that day. That was the last time my father said anything positive to me. He told me he was proud to be my father, which is why, I guess, it stung so much more when he called me a disappointment.

My eyes burned as tears threaten to spill out of them. Dad gripped me tightly one last time before he patted my back and pulled back. I was surprised to find him wiping moisture from his own eyes. I sniffed and batted away a couple tears of my own.

“I bet we look like a couple of pansies, huh?” he joked. It was his way of lightening mood.

I laughed at his lame attempt to be funny, and it felt good. “Yeah, we probably do.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and peered down at the boxes by our feet. “I guess we should get busy. Your mom told me about your grand plan for this place tonight. You think you’re finally ready to take the leap with Lanie? Marriage is a huge commitment.”

I nodded confidently and was glad noise filled the empty space between us. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my entire life.”

Dad smiled and gave my shoulder a manly squeeze. “Guess we better get busy then.”

We worked until nearly sundown. For a while, I doubted if it would even be possible to pull this off, but luckily, Mom came over and coordinated Dad and me on the decorations. Somehow, we had transformed the boat dock into a beautiful floral garden. It was something straight out of a movie with the archway of fresh flowers and gold and white fabric, tulle, and even more flowers covering every inch of the end of the dock—the spot Lane and I had spent so much time together. It was only right to ask her here. It brought our lives full circle here. This was the place of all our firsts, so asking her to be my wife here fit perfectly.

Mom finished lighting the last candle and I found myself mesmerized by the soft glow. Even as a guy, I could tell this was romantic. I sighed in contentment. Now it was just a matter of getting her out here.