“And he’ll be stealing you away from me again?”
“You can’t say it’s stealing when you’re the one who hooked us up.”
“‘Hooked us up.’ That makes it sound so casual.”
“We’re long distance, so it is kind of casual.”
My father waves a hand like he’s swatting a fly. “One year together isn’t casual, Genevieve. Don’t cheapen your choices or your relationship.”
Grinning, I take another bite, and his phone buzzes on the counter. He glances at it, and his expression changes to something harder.
Work mode.
“I need to take this. One moment.”
He steps out of the kitchen, his voice dropping to a murmur.
“—told you, I’ll get it handled.”
My fork freezes halfway to my mouth.
When my father comes back, his face is smooth again. “Sorry about that.”
“Sounded intense.”
“Defending the law sometimes is.”
The same fear I’ve always had about him and his work rushes through me, gripping my limbs in an icy hold. “Papa, promise me you’d tell me if you were ever in danger from your work.”
He sets down his fork. “If something were ever truly wrong, you’d know. I’d make sure of it.”
“Like a code word or what?”
He chuffs. “You watch too many movies.”
“I’m serious.” I laugh. “You’d have to make it something outlandish like ‘I’ll take you to the moon.’”
“Why’s that outlandish?”
“Well, you’re terrified of heights. Being in space is basically the highest point you could get.”
“It’s a deal.” He smiles. “That’s how you’ll know. Butmon chou, that day will never come.”
The rest of dinner is nice. He tells me about a restaurant he went to in New York and a technique they used for a sauce he thought I’d appreciate. And it isn’t until he’s brewed cappuccinos for dessert that we broach the subject of me being unemployable.
“What am I supposed to do? Cooking’s all I know. It’s all I’ve ever been good at.”
He reaches over and takes my hand. “Maybe Boston isn’t the right place for you anymore.”
I flinch. “What do you mean?”
“Sometimes when a door closes, it’s the universe telling you to look for a different one. Maybe this is your chance to start fresh somewhere else.”
I take a sip of my drink, the heat scalding down my throat. “Art did ask for me to move to Connecticut with him.”
He hums, and I suspect he already knew.
I stare into the mug, the steam curling up into the air. “Part of me wants to say yes. And Art’s… He loves me.”
