Four Years

Rachel's POV

Pete and I spent the remaining two days in Paris doing more touristy things during the day, then going out to go clubbing at night. Pete even convinced the clubs to let him DJ. So. Paris knew Pete was here.

We were leaving today at four. It was two already. We were running a tad late, to say the least. We were hungover and not ready to leave.

I stuffed the last of the new clothes I had bought into my already full suitcase. Shit. It was barely going to close.

"Pete, can you zip this up?" I asked softly, batting my eyelashes at him.

He laughed and walked over to the bed and tried zipping it up. He looked frustrated as the zipper would barely budge. "The fuck you have in here?" He asked, looking up at me, eyebrows knitted together.

"Clothes I bought this week..." I smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

He rolled his eyes at me and went back to trying to close the suitcase. I giggled and walked over to the dresser, starting to clean it off. iPods, cameras, phones...All of that needed to be packed away into the carry on bag.

"I don't wanna leave," I sighed, putting my camera into it's own bag. It was special and got it's own bag. "Seriously, Paris is so fantastic."

"I know it is, but don't you wanna go home and show off that sweet ring on your finger?" Pete asked. I turned around and instantly started giggling. He was sitting on my suitcase, struggling to zip it closed. It was so cute. He looked up at me, "Seriously, you've got so much shit in here."

"Sorry!" I laughed. "Okay, how about you stay there, and I'll try to zip it?"

"Fine."

I took the zipper and started to zip it. I did have way too much shit in there. Maybe I needed another suitcase...

Just as I thought about getting a new suitcase, the zipper flew shut. Huzzah!

"Skills," I smirked as Pete sat there laughing.

***

We arrived at BWI airport in Maryland at 5:32PM after a non-stop seven fucking hour flight at. Which was like...midnight Paris time. Permanent jet-lag, take me fucking back.

We were going to get on another flight to LA in three hours. That gave us three hours to go see my dad and tell him the great news. I was nervous as fuck and didn't want to go. Pete said we had to.

It was going to be an unpleasant trip. Really. My dad hated Pete. Once called him "a goddamn faggot that wears your clothes and makeup". It was harsh.

My dad still was hoping I'd find some better guy. A guy with a stable job and one that was home a lot. The complete opposite of Pete. I had always told him no. I loved Pete and that was that.

So. There we were, parking the rental car outside of my dad's house. I stared at the house, scared to death. I was afraid of my dad. I was afraid he was gonna say something, then try to kill me and Pete.

"Really, you're afraid?" Pete smirked, opening his door and getting out. He walked around the front, coming over to my side. I locked the doors and shook my head. I didn't want to get out. Pete just laughed and unlocked the door with the key. God dammit.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the car. I sunk to the ground, still shaking my head and repeating the word "no" over and over again.

"Okay, seriously, stand up. Your dress is getting dirty," He said, pulling me up off the ground. He kept his arm tightly wrapped around my waist as he closed the door, then led me up the driveway. "Deep breaths, Rae. Deep breaths. It's gonna be okay."

I laughed softly, "Why are you telling me it's gonna be okay? I should be the one reassuring you it's gonna be fine."

"I know," He returned the laugh. He rang the doorbell and that's when I saw him become nervous. His hands suddenly became sweaty. His foot started tapping against the ground. He looked up at the sky.

All signs of Pete being nervous.

I didn't say anything. I kept my mouth shut as he rang the doorbell once again.

This time the door opened, revealing a confused Courtney, "Rachel?"

"Hey there," I waved awkwardly. "Can I come in...or..."

"Oh, yeah, sure," She muttered, moving out of the way so Pete and I could come in. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, where's dad? I have to tell him something..." I trailed off, staring straight ahead down the hallway. I could see into part of the kitchen. The counters looked full of food. "Did we come during dinner?"

"Yep," She nodded, shutting the front door behind us. "Uh, dad's in there." She pointed down the hallway to the kitchen.

I nodded and held Pete's hand tighter. Courtney led the way to the dining room and kitchen. My dad was looking down at his plate as we stepped into the dining room. "Who was at the door?" He asked, not even looking up.

"Rachel," Courtney said as if it was nothing, and took her seat at the table.

Pete and I stood awkwardly in the doorway to the dining room. My dad's head snapped up, eyes landing on us. Melanie put on a fake smile.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, frown settling on his face. Did he not want me here? Was I not welcome back home anymore? Was I the daughter he hated? The daughter he wished he never had?

What happened just a couple weeks ago? Was that gone? Or was it never really there? Maybe he just put up a front and a fake smile. His life with me and my mom was a front. He never loved us. He never wanted us. We were a mistake.

"Can I talk to you?" I asked softly, intimidated by him. His eyes burned into mine. It was like he was trying to make my head explode by staring at me. Only worked in movies, not real life.

"Talk," He motioned for me to go on.

I wanted to talk alone. No Melanie, Courtney, or Pete. Which was a bold move for me. Ever since my parents divorce, I hadn't spent one second alone with him. I was afraid I was gonna blow up and yell, or worse, break down in front of him, asking what the hell happened.

Threw it all away for a trophy wife and a trophy daughter; a family of pure perfection. Picture fucking perfect. Courtney had perfect golden blonde hair, big blue eyes, a skinny waist, and most importantly, she wasn't pregnant. Melanie was a blonde bimbo, a stay at home mom. The kind of woman a man would want on his arm.

"Alone," I said, staring straight at him, glaring. Almost as if I was challenging him to say something against it.

His eyes hadn't left mine. They were still burning right into mine. He set his fork down on to his plate and stood, his chair sliding across the floor, the sound echoing through the dead silent house.

I let go of Pete's hand and turned to walk to the living room, my dad right behind me.

I took a seat on the couch while my dad took a seat in a big leather chair. His big leather chair my mom bought for him in 2001. Funny how things change. Families fall apart in the blink of an eye.

I'd kill to get back what I had. A full family.

"What?" He asked, really irritated. Well then. "Well?"

I took a deep breath and raised my shaky hand, letting him see the rock on my finger, "I'm getting married."

His jaw clenched and he looked pissed. Why?

"You're what?"

"Getting married to Pete," I said, trying to sound confident as hell and make it seem like I didn't care what he thought. I cared so much though. I wanted my dad's approval. He wasn't going to give it to me, so what was the point in trying to get it?

"Rachel, you're twenty-one years old. Marriage is not a good idea," He sighed. I expected an angry answer out of him. Not a sigh.

"It's not like you care anyways," I muttered, kicking at the carpet lightly with the heels I had bought in Paris. I looked up at my dad, "Did you even know I went to Paris?" He shook his head no, and I laughed and nodded, "Of course you didn't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't call me. You don't make any attempt at contacting me," I said, now angry with him. What the hell did he think I meant by that? There's only one thing that it could've meant. Asshole. "Hell, if Courtney hadn't bugged this shit out of you to call me on the twenty-fifth, you wouldn't have. You love her more than me. It fucking sucks. But, that's not my damn point. My point is...you don't even try to talk to me."

"You're right, I wouldn't have. But, it's a damn two-way street. You can call me too. Don't give me that bullshit that I don't call you!" He yelled.

Now came the shouting match. That is what I've tried to avoid all four years. Even more than All Time Low.

"I don't call because you shoved me the fuck out. Every time I talk to you, you always have something bad to say. Whether it be about me not going anywhere in life, or about my fiance - who is far more successful than you could ever hope to be!" I laughed bitterly, shaking my head, trying to stop myself from tearing up. It wasn't working. I was tearing up big time. I blinked and the dam just burst, the tears spilling down my face. "You're a horrible fucking father. You always have been! It's so fucking clear to me now that you never wanted me. I was a mistake that you couldn't fucking fix. So you just dealt with me."

"Rachel, don't you ever say that again," He said sternly, standing up from his chair. "I am done with this discussion." He left the room. Just like him to do.

Maybe that's where I learned to run away from all of my problems. My father.

"Don't say what? The truth? You never wanted me! Admit it," I yelled, also standing up. I followed him in to the kitchen.

He stopped and turned around, glaring at me, "I said I was done. Drop it."

I wiped my face with the palm of my hand, smearing my running eyeliner and mascara all across my hand and face, "Just tell me. Was I a mistake? Tell me, please. I need to know."

He walked in to the dining room and grabbed his plate, then walked in to the kitchen, brushing past me. He dumped his full plate in to the sink, then walked out of the room. I heard his footsteps go right up the stairs. He was walking away from me.

The mistake he couldn't get rid of. That's all I would be to him.

I stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the hallway. He ran away from his problems.

Pete's hand brushed against my shoulder and I flinched, snapping out of my suffocating thoughts.

"Let's go," He whispered, softly grabbing my hand. He led me down the hallway my father had just walked down to get away from me. We left the house, and I didn't even bother to close the door behind me.

Pete opened the passenger door to the rental car and I got in, silently. That's all I was. Silent.

Pete got in the car, sighing, "I'm so fucking sorry."

I slowly turned to look at him, eyes blurry from the tears that were welling up once again, "This is what I call a family. So fucking pathetic, right? I'm...done with him. He doesn't care. I don't either."

"I'm proud of you, Rae," He smiled sympathetically, reaching over to hug me and kiss my cheek.

"I love you so much, Pete. You're all I need," I smiled as best I could.

He leaned in and kissed me softly. "I love you, too," He whispered. "We should get back to the airport."

I nodded as he started the car. He drove down the street, and I turned in my seat, watching the development shrink away from us. This would be the absolute last time I would ever see it. I never planned on coming back.

Maybe this was for the best.