Page 31 of Say You Will

Dad watches me for a moment before he speaks. “You were a sensitive child.”

“That was a long time ago. I don’tfeel thingsthe way other people do now.”

“Sometimes, we grow that hard shell to protect ourselves. If it’s prevented you from suffering, then I’m grateful for it.” Dad’s expression turns fierce. “It doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you someone with coping strategies. You still care about your family. You’re capable of patience and gentleness and kindness. You can love. And you are lovable.”

He’s reminding me that love is more than a feeling. It’s a set of behaviors. I can’t do the whole “in love” thing, but I can provide care and attention.

I scowl. “I plan to love her. If she marries me, I’ll do it.”

Dad swipes a hand down his face.

The lace in my pocket is between my thumb and fingers now, a convenient outlet for the tension inside me.Flick. Flick. Flick.“I don’t know where to start.”

With narrowed eyes, Dad’s expression transitions slowly into a sly smile, and suspicion floods through me in response.

“I’m trusting you not to sabotage me,” I say.

He laughs at my frown. “I wouldn’t do that. Okay. I’ll be honest, it’s been a very long time for me, and I wasn’t exactly conventional. But first, I’d say you need to chill out some. Don’t say anything about sex at all for a while yet. Say something about her eyes or her hair. Let her know you admire her mind and personality.”

“All right.”

“Stop talking about relationships or any feelings for now. I know I said to love her, but you need to go slowly. You have the seeds already in you, but real love takes time to grow.”

I frown. I’m on a schedule here. I can’t afford some long, drawn out thing.

“Spend time with her. Find out what her favorite flowers are.”

“Peonies.”

“Ah. Good. So, listen to her when she speaks. Take her out to her favorite restaurant.”

“She doesn’t like eating in restaurants. She prefers to eat at home.”

Dad shakes his head. “Okay, then cook her favorite dinner. Laugh at her jokes. Express concern if she’s upset. Ask about her day and listen to her when she answers. Touch her arm or her hand when you speak to her. Watch her body language forsigns of interest or discomfort. After a couple of months, you can talk about feelings. A few months after that, you can think about commitments.”

“I see.” His timeline isn’t going to work. I need a ring on her finger in less than four weeks. But the rest of his suggestions, I can manage. He’s telling me things I’m already doing naturally. That’s a good thing because it means I’m on the right track. It’s also disappointing that he isn’t offering some secret advice that would convince her to want me instantly.

I don’t understand Dad’s caution to wait months and months to move forward.

“Don’t smother her,” Dad says.

I move my lips into a smile as I process his conflicting suggestions. Compliment her, but only certain parts of her and only in certain ways. Tell her I’m attracted to her, but don’t profess to wanting a relationship. Seduce her, but be “chill.”

“You might consider asking Gabriel to take over some of your responsibilities. He’s bored and idle. He needs something to keep him on track, and it would give you time with Franki. Otherwise, you’ll be too busy to cook her dinner or convince her to give you a chance.”

It’s true that when we’re working seems to be the only time Gabriel isn’t partying, but I’m not certain that increasing his responsibilities is the answer. I have no plans to risk our reputation or profits in an experiment to find out. That is, if he even agreed to more responsibility, which is highly unlikely. I’ll make time for Franki, but I’ll carve it from somewhere else in my schedule. It’ll be easy if I give her a job that keeps her by my side.

Dad rises and picks up his orange peels, heading for the door.

I call after him. “I’m not planning to give Franki a miserable life.” For some reason, it seems critical to me he understands that.

Dad looks back over his shoulder. “You have to plant the seeds for a happy one. Misery grows all on its own.”

nine

Franki

Anchor | Mindy Gledhill

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