Page 25 of Delicate Storm

But the team has been in the early stages of preseason. Things are ramping up now and—

I clearly have daddy issues. Maybe I need to work on that.

Thirty minutes later, I look somewhat presentable just in time for Dad to knock on the door. When I let him in, he fakes a gasp at the mess we made today.

“I could have sworn I asked the builders to make you a walk-in closet,” he jokes, waving his hands at the clothes piled up on every spare surface of furniture. “I’ll have them fired at once. Who do they think they are leaving my darling daughter without a space to hang her designer clothes?”

“Wow.” I smile as I shake my head. “You really went all in on that joke.”

“What can I say? The D’Angelos never do anything by halves.”

“Oh, I know. I’m a D’Angelo and I find it quite unfortunate to have that ingrained into me. I’d love to slack off every now and then.”

“You did. In high school.”

I burst out laughing because he’s not wrong. I spent most of my high school years rebelling against expectations. In my own way. It was my rite of passage. But at the end of the day, I was a good, easy kid and he knows it.

“Are you ready to go? Or do you need to clean up the mess first?” Dad asks, his gaze once again scanning my apartment.

“I’m good. It will still be there in the morning.”

Dad scoffs out a laugh. “You are so much like me, it’s scary. Your mom would never have left the house like this.”

“Yes, but it’s not like she would have cleaned it herself. Her house wouldn’t look like this to begin with. She has fairies that ensure that doesn’t happen.”

“Ah yes, how could I forget about her cleaning fairies?”

Since it’s a pleasant night, we ditch the car, choosing to walk the few blocks to the restaurant, and I have to admit, it’s nice. Yes, we lived together until yesterday, but we fell into a pattern of merely existing. Now, we’re really talking.

“How are things with the team?” I ask as the traffic whizzes past. “Do you think they have what it takes to win again?”

“They certainly think they do.” Dad smiles. “But they’ve lost a few key players this year with Mathers retiring and Jenson out with an injury. It will be hard to fill those spots. You know how it is.”

“Nope, I donotknow. I don’t follow football, remember? The last time I saw a game was when you took me to see the Giants when I was around ten.”

Dad’s jaw drops. “I thought you dated that college football player when you were nineteen.”

“I did. But we didn’t talk about football. We didn’t talk much at all, really.” I bounce my eyebrows and laugh when Dad’s face pales.

“Paige Lucia D’Angelo, you’re talking to your father here.”

“What? We went to the movies. Or out dancing. What did you think I meant?”

I meantexactlywhat I was alluding to but I’m not going to tell Dad that. Though I do love messing with him since he wasn’t around for all those years. And I’m clearly still fucked-up over it. “The point is…I don’t know anything about football. You can say any name you want and I’d believe they played on your team.”

“We need to change that. As soon as possible. But for now, all you need to know is that our star wide receiver, Ryan Gosling, iskilling it this year and our quarterback, Clint Eastwood, is still a powerhouse despite his age.”

He winks and I bite back a laugh. “You’re really cashing in on dad jokes these days.”

“Get used to it, Kid. I’m making up for lost time.”

A sadness settles inside me, but this time, I’m not upset because of my own issues; I’m hurt for my dad. Yes, he made his own choices when I was younger, but he’s trying now, and God knows, my mom wasn’t the easiest to live with.

“I think we both have some lost time to make up for,” I say, moving the conversation into dangerous “feelings” territory. “I held on to a lot of anger when you left, and I even questioned if you were calling to cancel tonight.”

“God, I’m—”

“Wait. I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel guilty. I said I forgave you when I moved here, and I meant it. But I’m still getting used to having you around. It’ll take time.”

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