Page 168

"The biggest thing is continued stimulation," Dr. Patel says. "Familiar people. Familiar environments. A life outside these walls."

"Then we'll give him that," I say. And I mean it in a way that surprises even me.

Dr. Patel smiles. "He's having a very good day today. Sharp. Present. Enjoy it."

"Thank you."

He nods, and I head down the hall toward my father's room trying to keep my heart from doing something dramatic.

He's in his chair by the window when I walk in. Book open in his lap, sunlight stretched across his hands.

He looks up immediately.

"There's my girl."

No hesitation. No pause where he searches for my name or looks at me like he's trying to place where he knows me from. Just my dad. Sharp and present, exactly the way Dr. Patel promised.

I practically melt into the floor.

"Hi, Dad."

I bend and kiss his cheek. He smells like his usual soap and clean laundry and that warm, familiar something underneath that always makes me feel like I'm twelve years old and nothing bad has happened yet.

He studies me for half a second. "You look happy."

I laugh, because apparently everyone can see it except the one person I need most to say it to. "I think I am."

"That sounds suspiciously important."

I sit down across from him and tuck one leg under me. "France was..."

"Transformative?"

"That's annoyingly accurate."

He smiles.

So I tell him. Not every detail—obviously I'm not telling my father about the drafting table situation, or the shower, or the... yeah. But the important parts. That I'm painting again. That Everett took me to Villefranche because he remembered the story Dad told at the rehearsal dinner about Mom. That something shifted there and I haven't figured out how to shift it back. That I don't think I want to.

My father is quiet for a moment.

"And?" he says.

And.

There it is. The and. The part I keep circling like a painting I'm scared to finish because what if the last brushstroke ruins everything?

I look down at my hands. At the ring.

"I fell in love with him," I say quietly.

My father doesn't look surprised. If anything, he looks like he's been waiting for me to catch up. Which... fair.

Then his face changes.

"How much is he paying for this place?"

Every muscle in my body goes still.