With a nod, I drank my whiskey, the caramel burn gliding down my throat. “Sounds good.”
“Tell me why you quit gymnastics?” Dad’s lips pressed into a grim line. “I thought you liked it, and you were good at it.”
“Yeah, but let’s be real, Dad.” I clicked my tongue. “I was never going to the Olympics, and it was hard on my joints.” Slowly circling my injured ankle, I stopped as the slight pain radiated through it. “I kept spraining my ankle. In fact, I landed on it wrong in the last game and was sidelined.”
Eli grabbed my hand resting on my thigh. “It was hard to watch.” He winced at me. “But you’re better now, right?”
“Yeah, I’m good enough for the dancing part of the routines. I won’t be tumbling for a few weeks.” I studied my dad. Since when had he cared so much about gymnastics? I don’t remember his ever being at a meet.
“Oh.” Slowly twisting his glass in his hands, he inhaled deeply and then focused on Eli. “So, Eli, you’re a linebacker with ASU?”
“I am.” He straightened his spine. “I also study psychology and volunteer at the student queer hotline.”
“Oh, do you intend to become a psychologist?” Dad sipped more of his drink.
“No, I’m heading into the draft this spring. I’m expecting to be picked in the second or third round.” He drank his beer.
“Oh.” Dad’s brows ticked up. “You must be an excellent linebacker then if you’re expecting an NFL contract.”
“He’s amazing, Dad, one of the best.” Tilting my head, I peered at Dad. Had I ever told him about Eli when I was in high school? “Eli went to high school with me. In fact, we dated then too.”
“You did?” Dad’s gaze shifted from me to Eli. “So, you’ve been together a long time.”
“No, we uh…” My heart pinched. I couldn’t tell Dad what had happened in high school. It didn’t matter now. “We, uh, broke up before college and met again this year when I started cheer.” I snuck a peek at Eli, staring at his beer.
“I see.” Exhaling a breath, Dad sank into his chair. “Wow, it seems I’ve missed a lot.”
Karen joined us carrying a water bottle and sat across from the couch in another chair. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you, Wren. You know, you should have visited more often.” She admired her manicured nails.
With a blink, I gaped at her. Was she serious? They never invited me. “Well, uh, I suppose if…” I should keep my mouth shut and not remind her that Dad rarely even called me. “Yes, you’re right.”
Eli squeezed my hand and drank his beer. “I could get you both seats to the next home game, and you can watch Wren do his thing on the sidelines?”
As Karen’s gaze met Eli’s, she said, “Oh, that would be nice, but I think we have a dinner function this weekend.”
“We do?” Dad’s brows crept up.
“Yes, honey.” With a faint smirk, she rose. “Why don’t we eat now? The food should be warm.”
“Sure.” I rose along with Eli. “Can I help you with anything?” That was odd. Something told me they didn’t actually have plans this weekend. Had she been the reason I never heard from my dad?
“No, I’ve got it.” She pulled the trays from the oven and brought them to the table, setting them on hot pads. She’d picked up what looked like chicken Alfredo and a rigatoni in a red meat sauce.
“Would you like something else to drink?” Dad strolled to the refrigerator. “I’ve got sodas.”
“I’ll take a beer.” I took a chair at the table and sniffed at the garlic floating in the air.
“I’ll just finish my beer, thanks, Darren.” Eli sat next to me, fixating on the food. “This looks delicious, Karen.”
“Thank you.” She sat at the head of the table, spooned salad onto her plate and passed the bowl to Eli.
“Here you go.” Dad handed me a beer, took the chair opposite Karen, and then opened a beer for himself.
This dinner was torture. What the hell else should we discuss? I scooped rigatoni onto my plate and picked a slice of garlic bread from a tray.
“What do you do, Karen?” Eli passed me the salad and then dove into the chicken Alfredo.
“Nothing right now. I’m too busy pulling the nursery together for little Stuart here.” She patted her protruding belly.
