“I don’t like basketball anymore,” Jane snaps. “I quit. Remember?”
“Yeah,” I say without comment, because I have no idea why she quit basketball, and she refused to explain her rationale.
Tina squats next to the table. “Don’t be scared of change, Jane. Change brought me to Highland Hills to open Tea of Fortune last year. Change got me that big galoot over there.” She nods toward her fiancé Zach, who’s charming a table of older women. “See? Change can bring good things into your life.”
Or bad. Like your wife dying of a brain aneurysm when your daughter is seven months old. Or being forced to raise a baby on your own while dealing with the town gossips and your wife’s conniving parents. Not all change is good. Was that what Jane was thinking just now, or am I projecting?
Why is it so hard to get her to share her thoughts? Aren’t girls supposed to word-vomit their feelings?
Jane lifts her eyes to mine, and the corners of her mouth lift slightly. “Yeah. Change can be good.”
“Well, well, well,” Tina says in a bright voice, and it’s only then I realize she’s now holding my cup. “I think I may have figured out the source of that change.”
“What are you talking about?” I try to reach for the cup, but she pulls it out of my reach. “I see a heart, which can only mean one thing. You’re about to meet your next great love, Cole Garrison.”
My mouth drops open. “What the fuck?” Then I remember Jane’s here, and I promised myself just last week that I’d stop swearing so much in front of her. “I mean, what the hell?”Still a swear, moron.“I mean, what the…” I growl to myself to keep from uttering another curse word. “What are you talking about?”
Tina shows Jane the cup first, then me. “See? A heart.”
“You call that a heart?” I ask with a laugh. The leaves are loosely clumped to resemble a valentine-shaped heart, not an anatomical one.
“It’s a heart, Dad,” Jane says dryly after she grabs the cup and looks. I can’t help noting the hopeful look in her eyes.
Shit.
“I alreadyhavethe greatest love of my life,” I say, reaching my hand over to place it on top of my daughter’s. “You.”
She scowls, and Tina frowns. It suddenly feels like I’m disappointing everyone in my life—a sharp reminder that I’m definitely disappointing Millie. I need to step it up. I need to be a better father. I need to make Jane my sole focus and not waste a single thought on the heart in my teacup or the message waiting on my phone from that ridiculous app.
I need to find ways to occupy Jane’s time and mind. She gave up basketball, so what can she do? Then it hits me. Just last week, Rory told me about a technology club that Byrne Systems is sponsoring at the school. He said he set it up in the hopes of getting young girls to consider STEM careers. Jane is smart as a whip, just like her mother, so who knows? Maybe this will help her find her destiny. Maybethisis the change Tina saw in her cup.
Fuck, like I believe that Tina could read something from that mess of wet tea leaves.
Rory told me it meets twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. If we leave now, we should make it back to school in time.
Fuck. Now I’m buying this fortune-telling bullshit.
“Enough of this nonsense,” I say, lifting my ass off the seat to pull out my wallet. I slap twenty dollars on the table. “Come on, Jane. We’re going to be late.”
“Late for what?” she asks in confusion.
“Your future.”
