But I do appreciate it. I’ve been opening up with Dex lately, and it’s making me feel more fragile than normal. I’m not sure I can take eating crow right now.
‘Are you happy?’ he asks when he has my full attention again.
I nod. I want to say that I’m more than happy. That I’m feeling things I didn’t know I could feel. But I don’t want to. Part of me is afraid that if I put it out there in the world, something will go wrong.
Disaster will strike.
Dex will wake up and realize that I’m kind of a loser who doesn’t deserve his time.
‘I’m happy.’
Quinn softens. ‘Great. Can’t wait to hang out with everyone when I get home.’
‘When?’
He shrugs. ‘Soon. Not sure yet.’
I’ll ask Thorne, I think to myself, if he’s gone for too long. But despite whatever’s going on with Quinn, he doesn’t look scared or bothered. He seems happier than I’ve seen him in a while.
Or, if not happier, more relaxed, and that’s all that matters.
‘I have to go,’ I tell him. No time for a real Deaf goodbye today. ‘I have to meet my dad.’
Quinn nods. ‘Me too. I have to go out and spy.’
I have no idea if he’s telling the truth or not, but I don’t get the chance to ask. He promises to text soon—probably a lie—and then the screen goes dark as the call ends.
I sit for a moment with my feelings. I’m worried about Quinn, but more than that, I’m coming to terms with the fact that I have to tell Dex how I feel.
The big feelings. The all-encompassing, important ones. The words I’ve never said or signed to anyone I’ve ever been with before.
I’m glad I’m about to meet my dad because I realize I suck at this. I have no idea what I’m doing, and I really, really need some advice.
When I get to the café, my dad is already seated with a spread of pastries and the iced matcha latte he knows I like. He waves me over, and I drop into the seat across from him with a small groan.
He looks better than when I first got back from Paris,like he’s been sleeping more. Part of me wants to encourage him to get out there and explore dating.
He was such a young dad when he had me—barely eighteen. He still has plenty of years to be happy again, but he’s never warmed to the idea of moving on from my mom. So whatever he’s got going on, it’s probably some random hobby my aunt turned him onto.
‘How are you?’ he asks.
I shrug. ‘Fine.’
‘Rome,’ he signs with a warning look.
‘I’m fine,’ I emphasize. ‘Nothing new. Business is fine. Nothing on fire. No crisis. Everything’s running smoothly.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘I know that. I’m talking about you.’ He gestures to all of me. ‘You look…’ His fingers hover.
I brace myself. ‘What?’
‘Happy.’
That hits me like a punch in the gut. My dad’s been around the Deaf community so long that he didn’t pull back his blunt last time when he told me I looked worn and tired.
So if I look happy, that must be the truth.
‘I think I am.’
