“Hey, Dad,” I greeted him, cutting into a piece of my omelet with spinach, mushrooms, and cheese. “How’s beautiful Italy? Staying away from all of the wine, right?” I teased, stuffing the loaded fork into my mouth.
“Actually, wine is good for the heart,” he pointed out with laughter in his blue eyes. My eyes.
“Yeah, one glass,” I clarified. “Not five, okay?”
He nodded. “Touché.”
My dad wasn’t big on alcohol, but I knew he’d taken a particular liking to the food in certain countries where he’d been assigned over the years. Italy being one of them.
But a few years ago his lifestyle finally took a toll on his body. He had a hectic schedule, little consistency in his routine, poor eating habits because he was always on the go, and little to no exercise due to the travel. He had two heart attacks while abroad and didn’t even tell me. I had been livid when I found out.
Now I stayed in better contact to nag him more. I’d dipped into my savings and sent him a treadmill for Christmas one year, and I even scoped out the grocery stores in whatever area he lived in, so I could push him to their salad bars and organic selections.
Thankfully, he put up with it. He’d been my only parent for about twelve years now, and he finally got a clue and realized I needed him around for a long time to come.
“Are you at the house?” he asked, looking around me. “I thought you were staying with Madoc and Fallon.”
I shrugged, concentrating on my food. “It’s the weekend. The workers aren’t here, and I wanted to get some yard work in. Making it presentable, you know?”
The yards were actually in great shape. Jax had been taking care of everything while my father was away and I was at school. I’d really just wanted to be home, and I knew, no matter how I tried to hide it, my father could read me well.
“Tate, I know this is hard,” he said softly. “Selling the house, I mean. I know you’re going to miss it there.”
I swallowed the lump of food in my throat, making sure I looked indifferent. “It’ll be a hard good-bye, but nothing can stay the same forever, right?” I was trying to stay positive. There was nothing that could be done, and I couldn’t expect my father to keep paying expenses on a large house we no longer needed.
“Honey, look at me, please.”
I stopped cutting food with my fork and looked up.
He stared at me for a moment, but then frowned and looked away. Brushing his nose with his hand, he let out a sigh.
My heart sank, and I wondered what the hell he was trying to say.
“Is everything okay?” I shot out. “Your heart—?”
“I’m fine.” He nodded quickly. “I just . . .”
I narrowed my eyes. “Is it the house? Has it been sold?”
His gaze locked on mine, and he hesitated before replying. “No.” He shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong necessarily.”
“Dad, just spit it out.”
He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled a hard breath. “Well, I’m seeing someone, actually,” he said. “Someone I’ve grown very close to.”
I set my fork down, my back straightening. Seeing someone? I remembered him talking about going on a date here and there a while after my mom died, but he never introduced me to anyone. Was it serious?
My dad watched me, waiting for me to say something, probably.
I finally blinked, clearing my throat. “Dad, that’s great,” I told him with an honest smile. “I’m happy for you. Is she Italian?”
“No.” He fidgeted, looking very uncomfortable. “No, she lives back home, actually.”
“Here?”
His cheeks puffed out as he ran his hand though his hair once more. “This is very awkward.” He laughed nervously. “Honey, about a year ago, I started seeing one of . . .” He trailed off, looking like he desperately needed different words to tell me what he needed to tell me. “I started seeing one of your old teachers. Elizabeth Penley,” he rushed out.
“Miss Penley?”
Miss Penley and my dad?
“It was sporadic,” he explained, sounding more like he was apologizing. “With my schedule and her job and your schedule, not to mention that when you did make it home here and there, I wanted our time together to be just us.” He took a deep breath and continued, “It just seemed like there was never a good time to tell you.”
I guess I understood.
He probably could’ve mentioned it at some point, though. Jesus.
“I didn’t know if it would last, and I didn’t want to mention it until I was sure. It’s only gotten really serious in the past couple of months,” he explained further, as if reading my mind.
Nodding, I tried to absorb the idea of my dad telling me about someone new in his life. He’d never made this big a deal out of anyone.
But the truth was, I had been worried about him. I always worried about him. Especially with me no longer home during his time at home, I couldn’t shake the guilt that he was eating alone, watching TV alone, going to sleep alone . . .
Although my mom would always be loved and important, I didn’t want my dad by himself forever.
“Well.” I sighed. “It’s about time. And I love Miss Penley. She’s amazing.” But then I narrowed my eyes on him, questioning. “But why, if you couldn’t find the time to tell me at Christmas or spring break or over video chat before, are you telling me now?”
He offered a timid smile. “Because I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
***
“Tate!”
I jerked my head to the left, seeing Madoc heading my way.
“Great,” I whispered, focusing back out on the track.
After the call with my dad, I came out—as so many others did during the day—to take a few practice runs around the track and enjoy the calm I found here without the crowd.
I was struggling, and I didn’t know why. I liked Penley, and I wanted my dad to have someone. His proposing was a good thing, and I should’ve been happy for him.
So why did I feel like it was all suddenly too much?
The house, Stanford, his relationship . . . I felt as if I were at sail without a rudder or an anchor.
So I came out to drive. To clear my head.