“Fine,” he said. “One condition.”
“What?”
“If I ask Lindsey out, you have to promise not to make it weird.”
“Define weird.”
“No lurking. No ‘accidental’ encounters. No pumping her for information about me.”
“Those are three conditions.”
“They’re subclauses of the same condition.”
“That’s not how conditions work.”
“It’s how they work in this house.”
Stella considered this. “Okay, but if she comes to Sunday dinner, I get to talk to her.”
“She’s not coming to Sunday dinner. We haven’t even gone on a date yet.”
“But when she comes to Sunday dinner?—”
“If. If she comes to Sunday dinner. Which she won’t. Because we haven’t even?—”
“You’re spiraling.”
“I’m not spiraling. I’m being reasonable.”
“You’re spiraling about a hypothetical Sunday dinner with a woman you haven’t asked out yet.” Stella grinned. “This is going to be fun.”
Tyler dropped his head into his hands. “I’m going to regret this conversation.”
“Probably. But you’ll thank me eventually.”
“I really won’t.”
“You really will.” She paused at the door. “Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. For fighting for me. For making this real.”
Tyler felt his throat tighten. “That’s what dads do.”
“I know.” She smiled — soft and real, none of her usual armor. “That’s why I’m thanking you.”
Tyler sat alone in the kitchen, coffee cooling in his hands, and let himself feel the weight of the moment. His daughter, staying. The paperwork, final. The future, open.
And somewhere in that future, apparently, a date with a guidance counselor.
He picked up his phone. Scrolled to Lindsey’s number. Typed a message.
Hey — any chance you’re free for dinner this week? Actual dinner, not coffee in your office. Tyler
His thumb hovered over the send button.
Stella’s voice echoed in his head.Both things. At the same time.
