“And don’t even try to deny it’s because of Brooke. You’ve been moping about like a puppy that got kicked ever since we got back from the camping trip.”
I study my daughter, almost an adult. I could deny it. I could pretend I don’t have feelings for her teacher. I could pretend that Brooke’s rejection hasn’t sent me into a funk where my entire life seems gray and drained of meaning. But I can’t lie to my daughter.
“I like her,” I say simply.
“Well, that’s been obvious since the parent-teacher conference. Have you asked her out?”
I can’t get a read on Dana’s feelings about this. I haven’t dated anyone since her mother passed away. I didn’t want the girls to feel like their mother was being replaced, but now I’ve realized I just never met anyone I wanted to date badly enough. But that’s beside the point.
“She doesn’t want to get involved.”
Dana huffs out an exaggerated breath.
“Look, I don’t know what went down on the camping trip between you two in that cabin.” She holds a hand up, “And I don’t want to know. But you’ve both been miserable ever since.”
“Brooke is miserable?” The news shouldn’t make me feel better, but it means I didn’t imagine the connection between us.
“So if you’re holding back because of me, then you should go for it.”
My mouth drops open as I gape at my daughter, once again feeling like the roles are reversed. “Are you giving me permission to date?”
She rolls her eyes. “We don’t expect you to be alone forever, Dad.”
“By we, you mean you and Nora?”
She rolls her eyes again as if I’m slow to catch on. But I’m dumbfounded that my girls talk about me like this.
“Of course me and Nora. We want you to be happy, Dad.”
I move toward her then and pull her into a hug. She’s stiff at first, but then softens and wraps her arms around me.
“I’m happy with the two of you.”
“Yeah, but we won’t be at home forever. You need someone to keep you company in your old age.”
“I’m only forty-one.”
“Like I said, your old age.”
I hold her at arm’s length, touched that she’s come to my office to tell me this. “That’s sweet of you, honey, but it’s more complicated than that.”
She screws her face up. “Why? You clearly like each other. What’s the problem?”
I cup her face in my palm, my young daughter, who still thinks all you need is love.
“Brooke is on a temporary contract. She’ll be leaving Hope at the end of the year.”
Dana nods thoughtfully. I drop my arms, and she sinks into a chair by the table and cradles her coffee.
“So, you’re telling me she would rather move to a place she doesn’t know, start again at a school she doesn’t know, with people she doesn’t know, than stay here with you in this beautiful, although sometimes dull, town?”
“That’s about the sum of it.”
“Why would she do that? Why wouldn’t she want to stay?”
I sit next to her. “People have different values and different ways they want to live their lives. We have to accept that. I can’t make Brooke stay if she wants to go.”
Dana puts a hand on my arm. “But have you asked her to stay?”
