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“It doesn’t feel like she’s been here very long.”
“She hasn’t been.” He chuckles. “But it sounds to me like you don’t want her to leave.”
“I—uh—”
“She’s a really sweet person,” he interjects. “Not to mention, she’s ambitious and driven. I saw the way you look at her.”
“I don’t look at her any certain way.” I groan, thinking of Addy’s texts.
“Is she single?”
“Yeah, but she just got out of a relationship. And she doesn’t want to be tied down—she’s focused on her career.”
“Ah, I see. Well, if you have feelings...”
“I don’t have feelings,” I snap, shaking my head. “I barely know her.”
“Okay, well, just don’t let something good pass you by. You may end up regretting not doing something about it.”
I sigh, his advice leaving my head a pounding wreck. “Thanks, Dad. But I think I’ll just let it be.”
“Why do you say that?” he asks.
“Because … after everything that happened with Lacey—”
“Lacey wasn’t kind to you from the very beginning,” he cuts me off. “I never liked her.” He’s not wrong. Dad never liked my ex-girlfriend. “She put you down constantly, and I think she only dated you to try and launch her career as a model.”
And it worked, so she broke up with me.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, pulling at the hem of my long-sleeved black Henley. “It’s a waste of breath. I’m over her.”
Finally.
It’s embarrassing to admit how difficult it was for me to come to terms with letting Lacey go. Especially considering the way she treated me. But … losing someone I care about has always been a struggle for me; ever since my mother passed away, it’s been especially hard for me to handle loss. Dad knows this, of course. He’s been my rock through it all.
“I know you’re over Lacey, but I don’t want you to write off every woman just because she was a fluke.”
“Alright,” I mutter. “I had no idea you were suddenly a love guru.”
He chuckles and then pauses. “I went out on a date tonight.”
“...oh?” I manage to choke out. This is the first time he’s ever mentioned dating since Mom passed away, and as much as I knew it was bound to happen one day, I feel strange confronting it.
This must’ve been why something sounded off when I answered the phone.
“Yeah...” His voice trails off. “I didn’t want to blindside you with it. That’s all.”
I blink, swallowing the grief tugging at my heart. I want my dad to be happy—and I remind myself of that as I open my mouth to speak. “Did it go well?”
“Um,” he breathes out sharply. “I suppose. I don’t really remember what makes a good date. It’s been so many years, and your mom and I met in high school.”
I can hear the nerves in his voice, and suddenly, all the mixed feelings I have fade away.
My dad is calling me for support.
I smile. “If nothing catastrophic happened, it’s already better than half the dates I’ve been on.”
He chuckles. “A couple of guys that I golf with set me up with her. I asked to see her again.”
