If he is smart, he won't say a word to her about that, or she will come home married to a penniless punk. Or someone so religious I will be in line to punch him out. Not that I'm against religion if you are into it, I just can see her picking some pious idiot and it all falling to pieces.
"And?"
"And her time is best spent here before she goes back to school. She'd be better off staying upstate at school. So, when is she coming home?"
I pull up and open my small underground garage. I parkand kill the lights, the smart lights in the garage coming on. I don't get out of the car.
"Christ, Dad, she just got here."
"A day before she was meant to go. Without my permission."
"We had an agreement. She spends the weekend here?—"
"If she's not back here at nine A.M. Monday morning, I will drive to Brooklyn and pick her up myself."
"You mean, you will get your driver to drive you."
The silence is terse and loaded. "I will be there to get her. Understand?"
I tap my hands on the wheel. "Relax, Dad. As I said, she just got here, and since when did you care about her?"
"She has an education to get, and she doesn't need to be pulled to the wild side by you."
I glare at my phone. "I'm not doing a thing. I just got home from work. Maybe you should be wondering why your teenage daughter, that you have found sudden interest in, ran away."
We both know she did nothing of the sort. Not in the real sense of running away. But from another burst of tense silence, Dad gets what I'm saying.
She would if she could.
There is a reason why she wants to be old enough to not have to follow parental rule of law that goes beyond general growing-up pains.
"Let her know, Enzo." And Dad hangs up.
I get out of my car and let myself in the house, sending a text as I do so.
Me
Call you in a bit, if it can wait.
Cade
Not that important, but I want to get things on the right track for tomorrow.
I set my keys down when I walk inside.
There is no wild party or even a tame one.
And Lyndall is alone. In the kitchen, with a folder in front of her. It smells of chocolate and wholesomeness in this damn place.
My home is not new to the former but is to the latter.
She takes a sip of her hot chocolate and then drops some marshmallows into a second steaming cup.
I nod at the mug. "I didn't agree to you having your friend Gretchen here."
She rolls her eyes. "It's for you, moron."
"Thanks, dumbass."
