“Confirms he’s a man of his word.”
“Were you testing him?”
“Testing? No. Challenging him? Yes. That’s nothing for you to get hot about. You’re my daughter. I want to know what the man you’ve chosen is made of. I might not have always judged him fairly. But when he said I made a difference in how he moved after taking that money from my car… I heard him. That impressed me. And now he’s impressed me again.”
“Wait! You like Dice?”
“Didn’t say that. Like and respect are earned. But the point isn’t whether I like him, it’s that you love him. That means what happens to him matters to me. If he didn’t face his father, it would follow him. And by extension, you.”
I let that sink in. “So you’re accepting of our relationship?”
“Hmph. You’re going to do what you want. Always have. We’vefought way too long about the things neither of us can change. If he’s your choice, I have to accept it.”
“But I don’t want you to accept Dice by default. I want you to see that he’s good for me. That he loves me.”
“I believe he loves you. He’s facing his father tomorrow to prove it. But good for you? Only time will tell.”
That’s as far as he’s bending for now. But he still bent. “I’ll take that.”
“I’m glad you called.”
“With an apology.”
“Either way, I’m glad you did.”
“Thanks.”
“What are you thanking me for?”
“Adjusting. Caring. Showing up. Dice never had that, and it’s got me thinking I might’ve discounted all the ways you’ve been there for me. It’s never been easy with us. But I know whatever you do, it’s because you love me.”
“I do. I’m not good with those words like your mother. Not affectionate. Never really learned to be. Probably not going to change. I’m stuck in my ways. Too traditional for you. But even when I don’t agree with your choices, I always want what’s best for you.”
“I know. You’re just trying to be a good dad.”
“Dad?” His voice catches. “You haven’t called me that in fifteen years.”
“The name standoff. Ready to surrender?”
“And call you Lot? Nope,” he says, stubborn as ever.
“Maybe we’ll get there one day.”
“Maybe.”
“Bye, Maurice.”
“Bye, Charlotte.”
But there’s a smile in his voice. I hang up with my shoulders lighter. It’s not perfect between us, but it’s progress. Like that bridge we’ve been building just got its first solid plank.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Dice
This man must be trippin’.
Morning light pours through the windshield, throwing long shadows across the road. It’s too early to call Lot. We’d burned up the night into the wee hours on the phone. First, she’d regaled me with Queenie the Thug tales, then gave me a private dancer show that left us both sweaty and satisfied. Or as satisfied as we can get with eight hundred miles between us.
