I just looked at him, confused. “Who are you talking about? ”
“Chuckles,” he said, annoyed. Then he looked at me. “The Hawaii job? He told you. Right?”
Slowly, I shook my head. “I was talking about the trip today. Mom has a pool.”
He exhaled, then ran a hand over his face. “Oh,” he said softly.
We just stood there for a moment, both of us still. Coffee, Kona, aloha, not to mention Luna Blu’s apparent reprieve and his date with the councilwoman: it suddenly all made sense. “We’re going to Hawaii?” I asked finally. “When?”
“Nothing’s official yet,” he replied, moving over to the couch and sitting down. “It’s a crazy offer anyway. This restaurant that’s not even open yet and already a total mess . . . I’d be insane to agree to it.”
“When?” I said again.
He swallowed, tilting his head back and studying the ceiling. “Five weeks. Give or take a few days.”
Immediately, I thought of my mother, how I’d averted the custody issue with my promises of this trip and weekends, not to mention how things had improved between us since. Hawaii might as well have been another world.
“You wouldn’t have to go,” my dad said now, looking at me.
“I’d stay here?”
His brow furrowed. “Well . . . no. I was thinking you could go back home to your mom’s. Finish the year and graduate there, with your friends.”
Home.As he said this word, nothing came to mind. Not an image, or a place. “So those are the options?” I said. “Mom’s or Hawaii?”
“Mclean.” He cleared his throat. “I told you, nothing is decided yet.”
It was so weird. Just then, suddenly and totally unexpectedly, I was certain I was going to cry. And not just cry, but cry those hot, mad tears that sting your throat and burn your eyes, the kind you only do in private when you know no one can see or hear you, not even the person that caused them. Especially them.
“So this is why you’ve been with the councilwoman,” I said slowly.
“We’ve just been on a couple of dates. That’s all.”
“Does she know about Hawaii?”
He blinked, then glanced at me. “Nothing to know. I told you, no plans have been made.”
“Except for the meat order going from monthly to weekly,” I said. He raised his eyebrows. “Doesn’t bode well for the restaurant. Means you’re either running out of money, or time. Or both.”
He sat back, shaking his head. “You don’t miss much, do you? ”
“Just repeating what you told me back in Petree,” I said. “Or Montford Falls.”
“Petree,” he replied. “In Montford, they had time and money. That’s why they made it.”
“And Luna Blu won’t,” I said slowly.
“Probably not.” He rubbed a hand over his face, then dropped it, looking at me. “I’m serious about what I said, though. You can’t just pick up and move halfway across the world so close to finishing school. Your mother wouldn’t stand for it.”
“It’s not her choice, though.”
“Why don’t you want to go home?” he asked.
“Because it’s not home anymore,” I said. “It hasn’t been for three years. And yeah, Mom and I are getting along better, but that doesn’t mean I want to live with her.”
My dad rubbed his hand over his face, the sure sign that he was tired and frustrated. “I need to get to the restaurant,” he said, starting out of the room. “Just think about this, okay? We can discuss it further tonight.”
“Mom’s picking me up for the beach at four,” I said.
