I try not to smile at the accuracy. Dutton just likes his space. It’s nothing personal to anyone else.
“Yes, he is now.”
“Sure,” is all my father says.
We find ourselves in a staring contest for about thirty seconds before he says, “I just came to tell you that you don't need to avoid me. While I'm not pleased with this new friendship you have formed, you are still my daughter, and when things change in your life, I want to know.”
I nod. “I just figured you'd be a little bit more upset.”
“Oh, I'm fuming on the inside and I’m disappointed in this decision of yours, but you are a grown woman, and I have to let you make your own choices. Even if I can tell already that this is going to be a bad one.”
“You’re wrong,” I quickly defend Dutton.
“No, Brooke, I’m not.”
My gaze narrows on my father.
He might not trust Dutton, but he should trust me. I want to tell him as much. That I'm disappointed in him, too, for not giving someone a second chance. For not believing that I’m smart enough to know what I’m doing.
And that if he should be worried about anything, it should be about Tony and how he messaged me again this morning online begging for me to change my mind. I ignored it like the other messages he’s sent me and shoved it into a part of my brain that can keep pretending it didn’t happen. He’s bound to be bored with my lack of response soon, right?
I should tell my father about that at least, but I don’t want him to use it against me and the choices I’m making with Dutton right now. That dating app was a poor choice. Me and Dutton are not.
So I don't say anything.
I never do.
Dutton's going to have to win my father over in a different way. It can't be me telling my dad that he needs to like him, that he doesn't understand him.
Hell, if my dad can’t even understand me, how can he understand someone he’s despised for more than a decade?
“It's like you said, I'm a grown woman. And I promise you, I know what I'm doing.”
Dad shakes his head and then backs up to the door.
“I sure hope you’re right.”
“I am,” I snap and my sharp tone surprises me just as much as it does him.
His mouth opens to say something, but then he sighs. “You look so much like your mother right now.”
My teeth grind, but I have nothing to say back.
He leaves on that note and the last of the customers in the bakery follow him out.
We don’t technically close for another ten minutes, but I flip the lock on the door and do the same with the sign on the door so that everyone knows I’m closednow.
That hurt.
I know my relationship with my dad hasn’t been the same since my mom and then my sister left us, but usually there is a bit more softness to him.
Not a lot, but some.
That was clearly not the case today.
Once again, I've done more to annoy him than impress him.
A part of me always thought that if I could finally get all of this in my name and make something bigger out of it, he’d tell me how proud he is of me.
