Page 197 of The Fake Date Agreement

Thirty minutes later, we’re on the couch, and I have a blanket wrapped around my shoulders and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food in my left hand.

“You want me to kill him?” my dad asks.

It’s not a good idea to eat so much refined sugar. I’m already on a fast track to feeling like garbage tomorrow with the lack of sleep, stress, and now sugar. But it’s ice cream, and Dad knows this is my absolute favorite. He always keeps a tub in the freezer for when I come home.

Some moments require ice cream, and this is one of them.

I dig another chocolate fish from the tub. “No, Dad, I don’t want you to kill him.”

He gives me a probing look. “I’ve been watchingCrime Scene Investigation. I had to take a break from the gore after two seasons, but I know enough.”

It’s a lot further than he got withThe Walking Dead. Two episodes, and he was done. So was I. I don’t think either of us slept for more than an hour that night.

I’ve tried telling him to stop watching television shows with gore, but for some reason, he keeps going back to them. I don’t think he understands why himself.

A smile pulls on the corner of my lips, and I struggle to flatten it. “Two seasons ofCSIdoes not mean you’ll get away with murder, Dad.”

“No, but the gloves I wear and the DNA I remember to wipe from all surfaces will.”

I lose my battle to contain my smile.

His smile follows a split second later. He wraps his arm around me and drops a kiss on the top of my head. “Stay home for as long as you need, okay, Junebug?”

“Okay, Dad.”

“I’ll burn the body. Maybe even set fire to the building in case I missed any DNA.”

I peer up at him. “Should you be talking about burning bodies with your daughter?”

“Any father would do the same if his little girl came home with a broken heart.”

I believe him.

Other than telling him that Marc cheated and we broke up, I haven’t gotten into the specifics. It hurt when it happened, but that isn’t the reason for my tears or why I came home to Lawrenceburg.

“Sorry I woke you up in the middle of the night. I didn’t realize I forgot my keys until I got in the cab at the airport.”

“You should have called from the airport. I’d have come to get you.”

I sigh, trying not to think about my phone. It’s been off for hours. Something tells me that it’s going to blow up with unread texts, voicemails, and voice notes when I turn it on after running away from my life without a word to anyone.

I focus on my ice cream instead. “From now on, my mode of communication will be by carrier pigeon. We can put a cage in the tree outside my window, and I’ll deliver and receive my messages from there.”

He dips his spoon into my ice cream. “Do you have any clue how much pigeons crap all over the place?”

“Doves then. They’re prettier anyway. Do they shit everywhere as well?”

He raises an eyebrow.

I huff. “Shit is an essential bodily function, not just a curse. And I’m twenty-two. Old enough to be dropping f-bombs if I want.”

“Not under this roof, you’re not, young lady.” He frowns into the ice cream tub. “Did you eat all the fish already?”

“Yes,” I say with no apology.

He kisses the top of my head. “Just this once, I will not complain.”

Smiling, I rest my head on his shoulder.

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