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“Dad.”
“Hear me out. Please.”
I reluctantly nodded.
“He is grieving hard. You are trying to be there for him. You two are spending every waking minute together during one of the most emotional times in his life. That kind of intensity can feel like something more than it is.”
I crossed my arms tight across my chest.
“You think he is only with me because his parents died?”
“No, that isn’t what I am saying.”
“Then what?”
“I think intense situations create intense feelings. Very fast.”
I hated how reasonable it sounded. I hated it even more because a few months ago I would have said the exact same thing to someone else.
Dad continued carefully.
“I’m not questioning whether he cares about you. I’m questioning whether either of you are thinking clearly right now.”
I looked away toward the ocean.
The uncomfortable truth was that old Samantha would have asked the same thing. Old Samantha would have thought these smart questions. Old Samantha would have encouraged a friend to slow down. The realization settled heavily in my chest.
Dad watched me closely.
“You have always been so thoughtful about everything.”
“I still am.”
“I know you are.”
“You make it sound like I have completely lost my mind.”
His expression softened right away.
“I don’t think that at all.”
“Then what do you think?”
He was quiet for a moment, choosing his words.
“I think this is your first real relationship.”
That took some of the fight out of me.
“And I think being in love like this makes people overlook a lot of important things.”
I laughed softly.
“Mom overlooked plenty with you.”
“That’s true.”
I leaned forward.
