“So…Dad and I went to the apartment the other day.” She would definitely find time for the family history talk tomorrow.
“Our apartment?” Andrew said.
“We met with a real estate agent. We’re going to list it.”
He pushed up in bed. “What? You’re selling the apartment?”
“It doesn’t make financial sense for us to keep it. Dad’s been paying half the mortgage, but he doesn’t live there anymore.”
His face darkened. “So he’s making you move?”
“He’s not making me move or throwing me out in the street. I could keep it if I want, but it’s an expensive place on just one income.” Of all things, here she was defending Phil.
“When did you decide this? No one said anything to me.” He threw off the covers. “What happens to my stuff?” The hitch in his voice caught her, how he sounded so young.
“Oh sweetie.” She reached for him but he swung out of bed. “Your stuff will go with me; I’ll always have a room for you. We’ll box it up together, and you can decide what you want to keep.”
He rummaged through a heap of clothes on the floor, then gave up and slumped back on the bed in his t-shirt and shorts. “Dad’s such a jerk. This is obviously his idea.”
“It’s no one’s idea. It’s just the way things are. And you need to be in the wedding. He’ll be hurt if you aren’t, and you’ll regret it. It might not feel that way right now but trust me. You will.”
“I don’t want to be his best man. I don’t want to be in it at all.”
“Andrew. He’s your dad.” It wouldn’t do him any good to hate his father. It would only cause a lifetime of hurt. She’d butted heads with her dad so often over the years that she’d become wary of every encounter. Bristling had become her default reaction, even when he wasn’t saying anything provocative at all. She didn’t want that for Andrew. He might not like the fact that Phil was remarrying, but he would have to come to terms with it.
Andrew scrubbed his hands through his hair. A Phil mannerism. The same thick wavy hair. He was Phil’s son too. “I’ll think about it,” he muttered.
“Want some breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry.” He gave her a baleful look. “When’s all this happening?”
“Not for a while. We have to do some updating first.”
“Update what? The place is fine.”
“I think it’s fine too but the real estate agent has other ideas.” She kissed his forehead. “You sure you don’t want breakfast? I can make eggs.”
He groaned and pulled the covers over his head. “I’m going back to sleep.”
...
It had been a difficult week. Thankfully, Mrs. Macuja had declined to file a sexual assault complaint but the home careagency said given Mr. Linden’s proclivity—they’d used that exact word!—for inappropriate behavior, they would not send over another candidate.
“We understand these things sometimes happen with elderly patients,” the woman said, “but we have to protect our staff. We can’t place someone in a home where there’s physical or sexual abuse.”
“No, of course not,” Cassie agreed, her face flushed with embarrassment. Her childhood home was now flagged as a place where unsafe things might happen. Where there might be physical or sexual abuse. Her elderly father lying in wait! It was beyond mortifying.
Then that discouraging meeting with Weber and the wrenching conversation with Andrew about the apartment. And she still hadn’t talked to him about the genetic counselor. It had all been too much for one week.
But today was Saturday. Today she was going hiking with Glenn.
They’d been texting all week, semi-flirty texts, which sent her heart skipping. At least she considered them semi-flirty, but she would have swooned over his grocery list. Just the sight of his name popping up on her screen gave her a giddy little rush.
Just yesterday he wrote, Looking forward to our hike, and she’d answered back, Me too. But was that enthusiastic enough? Maybe she should have used an exclamation point. Me too! Everyone used exclamation points these days. Why hadn’t she done that? He would think she wasn’t interested. Dating, if that’s what they were doing, was such a minefield. Back when she was going out with Phil, no one texted. You called someone on the phone or you didn’t. And of course they were in school with their own apartments, where anything could happen, and usually did.
She yanked her hair into a crisp ponytail. She and Glenn both had kids, and she was living with her dad and son atthe moment. Not a lot of privacy there. Besides, she hardly knew him. They’d had one kiss. But her mind had become rambunctious, galloping off in all kinds of scandalous directions.
Let’s face it. The man was very sexy.
