Fathers were impossible, but mine really took the cake.
* * *
Austin: I’m so, so, so sorry, Mak.
Me: For what?
Austin: Choking your dad.
Me: Don’t apologize. He kind of deserved it.
Austin: Kind of?
Me: He wasn’t where he was supposed to be.
Austin: Which was where?
Me: At home in Virginia.
Austin: Plans dead this weekend?
Me: No. He’s leaving in a few hours.
Dad peered over my shoulder. “Invite him to breakfast.”
I craned my neck back, peering up at my dad as I turned my phone screen away from his prying eyes. “What?”
“Invite him to breakfast,” he repeated, his face expressionless.
I blinked, confused. “Why?”
“Because a background check only tells me so much, and since my daughter is doing something this weekend with this man, I want to know him better.”
“Dad,” I warned, tightening the grip on my phone.
He shot me a glare, the same one he used to give me as a little girl when I’d give him sass. “I’ll invite him, but you need to behave.”
“Don’t I always?”
I snorted. My dad behaved as well as I did, which wasn’t at all. “You better be nice.”
“I’ll be Mister frickin Rogers.”
“Who?” I furrowed my brows.
He pushed his fingers into his eyes. “I’ve failed as a father.”
“You’re crazy,” I muttered.
“I’m going to call your mom and check in.”
“She and I are going to have a long talk about you.”
He laughed as he walked toward the patio. “And this is new how?”
Me: My dad wants you to meet us for breakfast.
Austin: Why?!?!
