He squeezes my shoulders before steppingback. “How are you?”
“Okay.” It’s not even the truth. I throw the question back at him. “And you?”
He motions to the desk. “Keeping busy.”
“So same old same old?” Apparently, I don’t feel much like giving grace today.
He sighs. “I’m not good at balance.”
“No, you’re not,” I agree.
“I’m sorry, Tally.”
“You didn’t even fight for us.” We didn’t meet at a restaurant, I had to come to his office first.
“Honey, you don’t understand,” he starts.
“You were never around, and even when you were, you weren’t really present. Your whole focus has always been hockey. We were just side dishes.” I fling a hand toward his desk. “Why aren’t you trying to fix it now instead of burying yourself in work?”
He crosses his arms. “Did you just agree to dinner so you could pick a fight with me?”
“Did you think you could just rip our family apart and expect me not to have feelings about it?”
“I know you’re hurting.”
“How do you know? Because you’ve asked me? Because we’ve had a conversation? Do you just want me to pretend everything is fine?”
“I don’t want every interaction we have to be a battle.”
“And I want you to be a better dad. I guess neither of us gets what we want.” This was a bad idea, I’m not ready for this.
His face falls, but before he can answer, there’s a knock on his door.
“Hey, Coach!” Flip appears in the office doorway. “Oh sh—sugar. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
He’s wearing black pants, a long-sleeved shirt, and a peacoat. He looks incredible, and it makes my heart hurt even more. Everything I want is out of reach.
“Hey, Talls.” He lifts his hand in an awkward wave.
I want to sink into the floor. “Hi, Flip.”
“I can come back later.” Flip’s eyes move between me and my dad. “Or tomorrow.”
“It’s okay. We can chat now,” Dad says.
I’m sure my disappointment is written all over my face.
Maybe this is why my parents’ relationship is over. If Dad’s default is to jump ship at the first sign of turmoil, how impossible would it be to resolve their issues?
Dad’s phone rings.
“Hold on a second.” He lifts a finger—for whom I’m unsure—and takes the call.
I glance at Flip, and he glances at me. Then we both look away.
This day could not get any worse.
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Dad’s brows pull together. “Yeah. I understand.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m on my way.” He ends the call and grimaces. “I’m so sorry. I have an emergency meeting. Rain check, honey?”
