"Dad."
"What? She's a good dog. Deserves spoiling." He scratched under her chin and she wagged so hard her whole back end moved.
I took another bite of chili, let the silence settle. Then: "I ran into Matt. Last weekend. At the hardware store."
Dad nodded slowly, chewing. "How'd that go?"
"Weird. Awkward." I stared at my bowl. "Caleb was there."
"Ah." He was quiet for a moment. "That must've been something."
"It was fine. Caleb handled it." I shrugged. "But it was still strange."
Dad reached for his water glass. "You know what your mother used to say?"
I looked up.
"She said you can't pretend the past didn't happen. But you can't live there either." He shrugged. "So you remember. But you keep going."
My throat tightened. "It's complicated. Having him here."
"Most things worth doing are."
"But you think—" I hesitated. "You think it's okay? Me and Caleb?"
Dad looked at me directly. "I think you deserve someone who makes you smile. Sounds like he does." He paused, then added quietly: "Your mother would've liked him."
"Yeah," I said quietly. "I think she would have."
We finished eating. I stood to clear the plates and Dad joined me at the sink, me washing, him drying. Same as always.
"You should bring him by sometime," Dad said. "Caleb."
"Yeah?"
"Just want to get a read on him."
I handed him a bowl. "You're not going to—Dad. Tell me you're not going to do the shotgun thing."
"What shotgun thing?"
"You know what I mean."
"Last I recall, you were the one greeting your ex-husband with a shotgun."
I frowned, but there was no heat in it. "That was different."
"Was it?" His eyes crinkled. "No shotgun, then. I promise."
A pause.
"But I am cleaning my guns that day. For unrelated reasons."
"Dad."
"What? They need cleaning."
I smiled. "Unbelievable."
