“You wanted me to come, didn’t you?” Broderick Scott was clearly living under a rock.
“You brought them with you, didn’t you?” Emmy-Lou deflected her father’s question with one of her own. If he’d come it could only be because Tasmyne and Christabel actually wanted to see the show (not her of course), so there was no doubt they were lurking around somewhere. She was glad they at least hadn’t come to her dressing room.
“No, no,” he said, much to Emmy’s surprise. “Just me this time.”
“What’s the catch?” Emmy scowled, clearly reluctant to believe her father would do anything just for her.
“No catch,” Broderick smiled. “Now, what does it take for an old man to get a hug from his daughter?”
Emmy snorted and stepped away from him. “You think it’s that easy? You think you can just show up and you’re let off the hook?”
“I’m sorry, kid,” her father insisted. “But you need to understand that you’re not my only family.”
“Oh I understand that for sure,” Emmy corrected him, thinking it highly ridiculous that he would think it necessary to remind her of that. “I just think you’d like it a whole lot better if I wasn’t your family at all.” Emmy-Lou was interested to see how long it took before he gave up and left. He’d made it clear by now that he didn’t think she was worth the time or effort.
“You know that’s not true,” Broderick sighed, clearly exasperated that his daughter was still giving him a hard time even when he’d gone out of his way now to do what he thought she wanted. He’d showed up to support her - what more could he do?
“I’m not sure I do,” Emmy sounded so sombre when she spoke that she surprised even herself. She hadn’t meant to let her guard down but her tone gave it away.
“Hey,” her father reached out and gently touched her cheek. “What do you say about spending the day together? It’ll be just like old times.”
“Old times?” Emmy was surprised he even cared to remember what ‘old times’ had been like and even more so that he was suggesting giving up his day for her. Broderick never had the time for a whole day with anyone, not even Tasmyne and certainly not Christabel (who was more-or-less the reason for this more recent rift of many between father and daughter).
“Yes,” Broderick smiled. “Now go on, get up on that runway and do me proud.”
“Emmy, you’re up soon!” Emmy’s mother appeared in the doorway of the dressing room but her urgency disappeared when she noticed Emmy’s company. “Rick?”
Emmy knew she couldn’t blame her mother for having the same surprised response to her father’s presence but for just a moment back then he’d metaphorically handed her a pair of rose-tinted glasses with his promise, and now Heather had burst the bubble. She didn’t say anything and didn’t stick around to watch her parents’ exchange, heading straight for the door that her mother had come through.
Maybe those rose-tinted spectacles were still perched on the end of her nose because she stopped in the doorway and turned back to look at her parents.
There must have been something telling about the way she looked at them because Broderick gave her a small almost-sad smile that seemed like a far too understanding action for him. “Go on,” he encouraged her. “Knock ‘em dead.”
“You can’t watch from here, Dad,” Emmy told him, her words lacking any sort of sentiment that the moment seemed to hold but she shot him a smile for the first time. She knew she shouldn’t have done it, she shouldn’t have fallen for the look in those deceitful brown eyes, but the fourteen-year-old knew there was always going to be a part of her that wanted her father back.
She was proud of all that she’d accomplished so far in life and right now it felt like maybe, just maybe, Broderick Scott was proud of her too. She wasn’t his perfect pureblood daughter, not like Christabel, and perhaps this fact was what had made her so hurt angry that he’d chosen to take the time out of his schedule to attend her stupid dance performance but had originally told Emmy that he was too busy to come to the release of her first collaboration with Daisy Queen for their winter range.