Page 67 of Play Our Song

Sophie tried to concentrate on her computer screen and failed miserably. Partly, she was tired. Spending every other evening with Tilly was exhausting. Not that she regretted it. Partly, she was distracted. In a good way.

The idea of moving in with Tilly was so new, so brilliant, that she hadn’t quite digested it yet. She knew that she wanted it, knew that she desperately wanted it. But she wasn’t quite sure she believed it yet. Like it was a lottery win or something like that, something that was so good it wasn’t quite real yet.

“What’s with you?” her dad asked, passing by her desk and doing a double take. “You’re sitting there grinning like the cat that got the cream.”

“Nothing,” she said quickly.

Paul Farmer hesitated, then crossed his arms and came closer to the desk. “Sophia Isabella, don’t you tell lies to me. I’ve known you your whole life and if anyone knows there’s something going on, it’s me.”

She sighed. “Dad, it’s really nothing, not yet.”

He perched on the edge of her desk. “Nothing? Is that what you call going out every other night and coming home with a smile all over your face? It’s not singing that’s done that. I’m not an idiot, you know.”

Oh dear. “I know that, dad.”

“And you’re an adult now. I can’t forbid you from going out to see people.” He looked down and gave a sniff. “And, um, I know I wasn’t always great about the gay thing.”

“You did threaten to throw me out of the house,” Sophie said, getting her feet back in the conversation.

He looked up at her. “I did. And I’ve apologized and will forever regret saying it. You’re my daughter, and it took me a while to get used to things being different. I’m sorry, really, truly sorry.”

“I know, dad.” He was sorry. It had taken some time. It had been a rocky patch, but she knew that she was accepted.

“I love you.”

“What?” The words took her by surprise, not that he never said them, though he rarely did, but because he was saying them here and now.

“I love you,” he said again. He rubbed his face. “You’re my daughter and I love you to death. I might not always have done the best job, especially without your mum around. But I love you and all I want is for you to be happy.” He sniffed again. “Your mum’d be proud of you.”

“Would she?”

He nodded. “She liked an independent woman, one that no man could boss around. She used to drive me crazy sometimes. It took me a while to get used to that too, to being ordered around by this little slip of a girl.” He smiled at the memory of it. “I’d have done anything for her, though. If…” Another sniff. “I’d have gladly gone instead of her.”

Sophie’s eyes filled with tears and for a second she couldn’t speak. She had to blink and gain control of herself. “Dad…” she said finally.

“Oh, I know. I’m being a soppy old fool,” he said. He patted her hand. “But I just wanted you to know that when I fell in love with your mum, I shouted it from the damn rooftops. I couldn’t believe that someone that perfect could love me, and I told as many people as I could just in case she tried to change her mind. I just wanted the world to know that for an instant I was good enough to be loved by someone like that.”

“Dad,” she said again.

He patted her hand again. “No, hear me out. If I’ve put you in a position where you feel like you can’t tell me news as important as that, where you think I’d be uncomfortable or angry or somehow disappointed, I want you to know how very, very sorry I am. I want you to be happy, Soph. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I know.”

“So, is there anything you want to tell me?”

Sophie exhaled, rolled her shoulders, then nodded. This was hardly the time or the place, and not exactly what she’d imagined, but she had to do this. “There’s a woman,” she said, the words barely sounding real.

Her dad grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s nice and kind? Gentle when she needs to be and bossy when she has to be? She treats you well and puts that smile on your face?”

Sophie thought about Tilly and nodded. “Yes, she’s all those things.”

“Then that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” he said, standing up. “She sounds lovely. When you’re ready, bring her over for dinner. Or we can go out to lunch. Whatever you think would make the right impression.”

She had to take another breath. “Thanks, dad.” She scratched her head. “Um, actually, there’s something—”

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