We got out of the car discussing movies. She wanted something with great dramatic acting. I was fine with that as long as it also had fight scenes and death.
Part of me wanted to put off our relationship discussion. We could just go on being the way we were for a few more weeks. We could hang out at each other’s houses, and I’d tell her I’d changed my mind about PDAs. I was in favor of them now,along with frequent stints sitting on the couch kissing. And I needed lots of rehearsals.
“Lord of the Rings?” She opened the door to her house. “That might make both of us happy.”
“It’s a possibility.” I walked in behind her. “You don’t want to try something new?”
“You might be able to talk me into it. After tonight, I’ll be easy to convince.” As we made our way across the entryway, she glanced over her shoulder at me with a smile. “I guess you have the final say anyway. You’ll have total control of the living room while I get undressed.”
I knew what she meant by that statement. Her father, however, who’d suddenly appeared in the entryway, clearly had questions. “You’ll do no such thing.” He glared at me and then at her. “We need to have a discussion about appropriate dating parameters.”
Madeline’s mouth opened and clacked shut. “What are you doing home?”
For someone who was raised by a lawyer, she should’ve known that sentence wasn’t a good defense.
I held up my hands. “She’s just changing into new clothes because hers are wet and have grass stains. And a few blood spots.”
His glare swung to me and his face reddened. “What exactly were you doing on your date?”
Madeline gave him a hurried account of us hitting the cat and taking him to the vet. “Neither of us wanted to go to the dance after that,” she finished. “So we decided to come back here and watch a movie.” She gave him a pointed look. “I was going upstairs to change into some jeans while Cooper pickeda movie. Honestly, Dad, why would you jump to the wrong conclusion?”
Well, for starters, because we’d been trying to get our parents to jump to the wrong conclusions. Looked like we were more successful than we’d realized.
“I’m sorry to hear about your night,” her father said in a much more relieved tone. The red flush had faded from his face. “I hope the cat is okay.”
He didn’t ask what the vet bill cost. Those would have been the first words out of my mother’s mouth.
The thought of my mother made me look around the room. She wasn’t anywhere in sight, and Mr. Seibold had changed out of his suit. “Weren’t you and my mom going to the symphony tonight?”
“We were.” He grimaced and folded his arms. “Something came up. Your mom and I didn’t go out.”
“What came up?” I asked. Mr. Seibold wasn’t giving off the casual “everything’s fine” vibe.
He didn’t answer, just looked downward as though deciding how to phrase what he said next.
My first thought was that they’d fought over us, that somehow Madeline and I had already ruined things for them. My mother would be sad again and it would be my fault. I would have to come clean and apologize.
I looked at Madeline, trying to catch her attention to see what she thought. She was watching her father with furrowed brows of concern.
Mr. Seibold lifted his gaze and finally met my eyes. “Actually, Cooper, your dad is back in town.”
It took me several moments to process his words. “My dad?” I repeated. “Where is he?”
Mr. Seibold shrugged. “He showed up at your house, and when he didn’t find anyone there, he called your mom and said he wanted to talk.” Mr. Seibold looked unhappily resigned to this turn of events. “She didn’t tell you?”
I pulled out my phone to see if I’d missed any messages from her. Nope. Not from her or my father.
What did this unexpected visit mean? I didn’t want to get my hopes up that he would stay for long. He probably just had some time off and planned to surprise Claire and me with a visit. But then again, wouldn’t he have told my mother beforehand if that was the case? I turned to Madeline. “I should go. We’ll watch a movie another time.”
Her eyes were wide and questioning. “Right,” she said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I drove back to my house going faster than was probably wise. Maybe I should’ve given my parents time alone together, but I had a vague worry that if I didn’t go home now, he’d disappear before I saw him again.
I reached my house and went inside. My parents’ voices drifted out from the kitchen. I tried to judge how things were going from the tone of their conversation. Was my mother being friendly or just polite? She was talking about my football games, and I couldn’t tell whether her excitement was because my father was back or just because the season was going well.
I walked into the kitchen. The two of them sat at the table,casually talking. My father looked the same, fit and broad-shouldered. His blond hair, perpetually in need of a haircut, had been trimmed, and he was clean-shaven. He wore jeans and a polo shirt—dressed up for him. Despite this, he seemed smaller somehow and more tired.
Mom had on the black dress she’d worn for the symphony, hair still pinned up. Her expression was soft and relaxed. Perhaps because a box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates—her favorite—sat in front of her, and a bouquet of roses perched on the counter behind them.
