It takes me by surprise. “I … I mean … sure. I guess. I’m just trying to help him in a difficult situation.”
“I always thought you two would end up together. I saw the way you two looked at each other.”
It’s like salt in a wound. “I don’t know where you got that.”
“Well, you’re my daughter. I have those father Spidey senses.”
“Oh gosh, Spidey senses? Dad, please.”
He laughs. “It’s true.”
“Whatever you say.” I walk through the front doors of my apartment building. “All right, Dad, you get back to work. I don’t want to keep you.”
“Love you, sweetie.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
I hang up the phone just in time to get on the elevator, which always loses service.
I settle onto my couch with a glass of wine. It’s a typical Monday night for me. I make myself dinner, then go down to the gym in my building and force myself to lift some weights.
I read somewhere how important it is to keep building your muscles as you age, and it’s kind of stuck.
Then I pull out my book of puzzles. It’s filled with crosswords, word searches, and sudoku. I’ve found that it calms me down to do a couple of puzzles while I watch some of my favorite shows on repeat.
In a world filled with pain, chaos, and uncertainty, there’s comfort in the familiar. Watching lighthearted shows I’ve already seen, knowing exactly how they’ll end, is the kind of stability I crave. No surprise. No twists. Just easy laughter I can count on.
Just as I’m swiping through the shows on the screen, my phone rings.
It’s a video call—from Walker.
I sit up straight, realizing my hair is still a little damp from my shower. I didn’t feel like blow-drying it all the way. Now I regret the decision.
This is the kind of unpredictability in my life that I shouldn’t like, but damn if it doesn’t make my heart fill with false hope. Hope for something more.
Before the call ends, I slide my finger across the screen.
The moment his face pops up and he spots me, he breaks out into a wide grin—with those damn dimples.
“Hey, you.” His voice comes out low and rough.
I’m twenty-seven years old. I shouldn’t feel like I’m a teenager again. But here I am, giddy and my heart filled with joy as I slink back into the couch with my wine.
“Hello to you,” I respond like a fool as my cheeks heat.
No one else has been able to do this to me. I’m normally such a loud, outspoken person. I’m the crazy one who never gets embarrassed. Yet put me on the receiving end of one of this man’s smiles, and I turn into goo.
“Don’t you look adorable?” he says lazily.
I notice he’s on his couch with no shirt.
What is with him walking around all the time with no shirt and his gray sweatpants? It’s like he’s read a mountain of romance novels and knows that they’re kryptonite.
I run a hand through my hair self-consciously. “I’m a mess. I just showered. My hair is still wet, and I don’t have any makeup on.”
The hard lines of his face transform, his jaw tightening. “Don’t do that to me. Putting a visual in my head of you in the shower. Not after the other night.”
I bite my lip as my own face must betray my thoughts. “I thought about it all day today.”
