“Do you have a dress to wear to the party?” she asks.
“I’m sure I have something in my closet upstairs,” I tell her, hearing a car coming up the drive. I turn to the window, catching my father’s black Range Rover driving up.
“You need something new. We’ll go shopping tomorrow and pick something out.”
I nod absentmindedly. When the front door opens, my father’s voice booms out. “Where is my baby girl?” I spring from the couch and rush forward, plowing into him. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tight. “I missed you, sweetheart,” he says, kissing the top of my head.
“Missed you too, Daddy.”
While my mother was hard to please growing up and rarely showed affection, my father was the opposite. He constantly told us how proud he was of us and never shied away from hugs.
My mother slips off to the kitchen while my dad and I catch up in the living room. We chat about school and Ellie, and he listens intently, smiling the whole time. I don’t think I stop talking until dinner is ready.
After a heavy three-course meal, I excuse myself to my old bedroom. I close the door and crawl into bed. The room isexactly as I left it nearly four years ago, as if it’s just waiting for me to slip back into my life here.
I sigh, pulling the plush comforter over me, and fall asleep as soon as my head finds the pillows.
I wake up slightly disoriented. The room is dark, aside from the lamp on my side table. I try to blink away the tiredness, but my eyelids are so heavy. I yawn, reaching for my phone to check the time, but an unread message waiting on my screen distracts me.
Penn:
Doin’ any knitting lately, grandma?
Confusion fogs my brain. I don’t recall giving him my number or taking his, but there it is, saved in my phone. I rack my brain. The night at the bar? I wasn’tthatdrunk. Then I remember he carried me to my bed, and when I woke up, my phone was lying beside me. He must have put his contact info in while I was passed out.
Olivia:
Wow, stalk much? I don’t remember giving you my number.
When he doesn’t reply for a few minutes, I drag myself to the bathroom and brush my teeth. There’s a message waiting when I hop back into bed.
Penn:
You didn’t.
Olivia:
At least you’re honest.
Penn:
Always. What are you doing up this late?
Olivia:
I just woke up and btw, I don’t KNIT. I crochet.
Penn:
What’s the difference?
Olivia:
The needle, the patterns, the stitching…
I could go on and on, but I decide to spare him.
Penn:
