“I’ll be twenty-two by the time of the wedding. Does that help?”
“I was thirty-two when I married your father, and I still question that decision.”
I roll my neck, then press two fingers to my forehead. “No, you don’t. You’re head over heels for Dad and always will be.”
“Is that our daughter?” Dad’s voice pitches in the background. “Get her on a video call.”
“Honey, can you call us—”
“On it.” I hang up and switch to video chat mode. Two blue-eyed familiar faces light up my screen, sending a deep-rooted tickle to my heart. “Hey.”
“Angel,” Dad coos, adjusting his cowboy hat.
He looks night-and-day different from the man I grew up with. Gone are the neutral-toned ties, ironed slacks, and freshly shined shoes. In their place, a man who’s worked hard through long hours and sacrifice to chase his ultimate dream of living off the land.
Unburdened and free.
To Dad, it’s just a cheap cowboy hat he bought at a roadside store. To me, it’s evidence. Proof that what you truly desire is always within reach if you put in the work.
“Hi, Daddy.” My defenses fizzle out at the sound of his voice. I miss my parents so much. “You look great.”
“Yeah? The gray is out in full force.” He scratches at his silver-tinged beard and makes a face. “I feel the threads of a midlife crisis unraveling with every new white hair.”
“I doubt you’ll ever enter the crisis stage as long as you have a working lawn mower,” I tease.
Mom nods emphatically, her sandy-gold mane bobbing at her shoulders. “That’s true. The obsession hasn’t waned.”
My father’s eyes glaze over as he slips away.
“Dad?”
“Sorry.” He blinks back to the screen. “Didn’t hear that over the sound of the lawn mower in my head.”
I snicker, resuming my unproductive pacing. “Anyway, I hope you guys can be happy for me. This is a big deal.”
“That’s why we’re being the voice of reason, Annalise,” Mom says. “Itisa big deal, and you’ve hardly stepped out into the world and spread your wings.”
“I have a steady job and a condo. Bought, not rented.”
“A job at Alex’s restaurant, and a condo in Alex’s name,” Mom reminds me, her tone soft but honest.
My skin prickles like an omen. “We’re in this together.”
“I certainly hope that’s true.” She sends me a cautious smile. “Do you have a date planned?”
“Not yet. We’re thinking sometime next summer.”
“That’ll give me time to lose these extra pounds,” Dad muses, rubbing a hand over his plump belly. “Twelve, to be precise.”
Mom wrinkles her nose, an exact replica of mine. Small and buttonlike. “I’ve been baking more lately.”
“I miss your lemon tarts.” I can’t prevent the trace of sadness from inhabiting my tone. “Summers haven’t been the same without them.”
Her eyes gleam as she moves around the room, stepping in front of a window that drenches her in natural light.
Dad pops his head over her shoulder, draping a hulking arm across her chest. “We’ll come visit. Anytime. Just say the word.”
“You’re always so busy,” Mom adds with regret. “We don’t want to intrude.”
