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I have a two-for-one coupon!
She wants to meet at the Red Robin in NW? That’s a drive. And she has a coupon? Why does that make me laugh? Oh, right, because I can be cheap as fuck at times. It’s a running joke amongst my group of friends. I can respect the frugal, I suppose. Plus, the place has the best bottomless fries ever. How could I possibly say no?
OK. At seven, I will unromance you like you’ve never been unromanced.
Yikes. I stare at the text. Did that seem flirty? It doesn’t matter, I can’t take it back, not to mention we sent winky faces earlier. Can we just not help it? Was Brooks right? Ugh. She specifically said un-romantic, so I best be the best un-romantic man alive. Don’t overthink it, River. You two are friends, and friends hang out. Though I don’t usually have this ‘I can’t wait’ feeling when I hang out with Dax. Huh. I might need to figure that out.
8
JADE
‘You’re going to dinner with a man who is not your fiancé?’ Dad asks, confusion on his face but a hint of interest in his tone.
‘He’s just a friend,’ I say, stirring the pot of macaroni and cheese he doesn’t want to make himself because my mom ‘always made it better’. His words. He won’t say her name, just ‘your mom’ as if trying to distance himself.
I come over once a week to spend time with him, and tonight, he requested I stay for dinner. But I already made plans with River, so instead, I’m making mac and cheese like Mom used to.
‘Any word from the man who’s lost his tongue?’ he asks.
I snap my head his way. ‘How do you know about that?’
He only smirks for a moment. ‘Your little sister likes to gossip.’
Damn it, Laney.
‘Tell me, what does Conner think of you going to dinner with another man?’
It’s been a week since Conner left, and we’ve hardly spoken. He claims he’s busy, so our conversations are, ‘Hey, I’m still alive; call you later,’ and then later, he sends emojis I don’t understand.
‘He’s got no opinion either way because only people capable of having an actual conversation get to tell me their thoughts. He’s sending me strings of emojis, so his point of view is null.’
Dad laughs. ‘What do you send back?’
I grab my phone from the counter and scroll to mine and Conner’s text thread, which usually I wouldn’t even consider showing my father, but in this case, there’s nothing to see but a bunch of tiny cartoons that mean absolutely nothing and he’s talking voluntarily so I’m not about to interrupt that.
Dad pulls his reading glasses from the neck of his shirt where he keeps them and inspects my texts. ‘Man, dinner plate, firework.’ He looks at me with concern. ‘This is implying you’re going on a date.’
‘Oops,’ I say, not even a little bit sorry.
‘It’s not like you to intentionally antagonize a guy. You’re my sweet daughter.’
I smile proudly. ‘I’m not sweet, I’m polite. It’s called manners. And since Laney doesn’t have any, she thought maybe he’d have something to say to those particular emojis.’
He looks at my phone again, attempting to scroll to Conner’s response. ‘Making him jealous enough to call you was Laney’s idea?’
‘Yep.’ I scoop macaroni and cheese – with the spiral noodles ’cause those are his fave – into a bowl and carry it across the kitchen to the island he’s now using as a dining table. He refuses to sit at the actual table because ‘too many memories’. I set the bowl in front of him, grabbing the salt and pepper from the lazy Susan in the middle of the bartop because I know that’s his next step before he even tastes it.
‘What’d he say?’ he asks setting my phone on the counter before scooping a few noodles out of his bowl and setting them on the counter in front of Frito, his cat, who gobbles them up and patiently waits for a second helping.
‘Nothing,’ I grumble, sitting at an empty chair next to him. ‘He said absolutely zero and I sent it two hours ago.’
Dad shakes his head, securing his glasses back onto the neckline of his shirt before he seasons his dinner with enough salt that I’m sure he’ll one day die of a heart attack.
‘Sweetheart,’ he says before tasting his meal and nodding with approval as if I’d whipped it up from scratch and didn’t just boil water and stir. ‘Conner’s not calling for a reason. If I had to guess, I’d say that reason is that he has nothing to say because his newly discovered freedom has him rethinking the bad decisions he made while here, and ignoring it –er, you– is easier.’
My heart slows. I’d already had this thought, but hearing it come from my dad hurts a little. ‘I’m a bad decision?’ I ask, woefully.
‘Not to me,’ Dad reassures me, patting my hand. ‘But I have a sneaking suspicion he regretted his little proposal the moment the words left his lips.’
