“Someone should tell my dad,” I whispered under my breath.
“Maybe one day, he’ll see it for himself,” Daddy offered.
Ugh. The last thing I wanted was to drag Daddy into my family drama. And, as drama went, it was pretty tame. My dad had three successful kids and a perennial screwup. He wasn’t mean about it, and he didn’t call me names like an asshole. He just worried.Oh no, the horror. I’d had friends—note to self: text them—whose parents made them feel like crap. My dad never got mad, only disappointed.
“You have bat-level hearing,” I told Daddy.
“A superpower?”
“Nope, just creepy.”
“I’m gonna choose to think you’re wrong, sugar. And these tart things are fucking delicious.”
“Oh yay.” Also, thank you, universe, for moving on from my dad. “Those are the ones on the short list for the potluck.”
“Do it. I like that everyone gets to do their own thing.”
Daddy grabbed his plate and twisted away from me so I couldn’t have any.
“Yeah?” I gave him a bemused smile. If Daddy wanted them all to himself, I’d make them for him every day.
“I don’t mind sharing though.” Dread didn’t hit me until he added, “And speaking of that…”
“Oh, good news for me,” I said with my best fake smile. Here it comes…
The kitchen warmed by twenty degrees in the space of a second. I squirmed a little in my chair because I knew what was coming next. Most guys I’d dated wanted an open relationship by default, and it looked like the streak was alive and well. I went along with it because I didn’t have a great argument against it. It wasn’t my first choice, but it was the expected default. My usual response was that I didn’t want to know about it.
“You know I’ve never been in a relationship, but I’ve been thinking about it lately.” At my raised eyebrow, Daddy clarified, “With you. Thinking about it with you.”
“Ready to just jump in the deep end now that the seal of dating is broken? That’s cool. Open is fine, but I say we keep it separate from each other and not blur things, ya know?”
The urge to move away from him was too strong to ignore. The happy feeling I’d had when he’d entered the kitchen evaporated. I needed to do something. Anything. Whatever would give me some space from the conversation I knew was headed my way. The grill had been scrubbed already today, but I’d happily do it again.
“Sugar, are we talkin’ about the same thing? ’Cause I don’t think we are.”
“You’ve seen you can do dating and focus on your place, so you want to do that? It’s cool, and I’m happy you figured it out.” I mustered the biggest, fakest, brightest smile I could and turned to dazzle him.
“With you. Why would I go from no one to jugglin’?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Sugar, I’m not that talented or efficient. Kinda lazy too.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Daddy gave me a searching look. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, I need you to spell it out for me, please.” Hope bloomed, but I wasn’t willing to trust it yet.
“I’m not asking to get married.” I gave him the snort and eye roll that deserved. “But I want to date you—not the nonexistent person you think I’ve got my eye on.”
“Well, hell,” I sighed. This was a position I’d been in exactly no times before. “I’ve never dated someone who wanted to be exclusive. Kinda weird.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’ll get bored? Maybe I will?”
Daddy looked convinced I’d grown two heads and offered him a trip to the center of Earth. My confusion seemed perfectly reasonable to me. His expression said otherwise.
