Page 27 of Accidental Dad's Best Friend

Izzy nods as the server sets our sushi rolls down in front of us. We each select a few and place them on our plates along with some ginger and wasabi. For a moment, we eat and I simply watch her. She chews thoughtfully as if she is trying to identify every spice, every flavor and every texture. She appreciates everything. Enjoys everything. For a girl who has spent most of her life trying to be good enough for the wrong people and then the other part of her life running from those same people, she is rather remarkable.

“You wanna know something crazy?” She asks while dabbing her lips with a cloth napkin. “I haven’t talked to my dad since the last time I saw you.”

I narrow my eyes as I try to piece that all together. “You mean the day we went to–”

“Backporch. He texted me the next day. Asked how work was going.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“That I had a job. Of course, I didn’t. But I actually considered calling you back about your offer.”

My eyes widen. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I almost wondered if it was too much of a coincidence. You working for him offering me a random job, then he contacts me when I turn it down. I guess I wondered if he had something to do with that day.”

I shake my head immediately. “Your dad knew nothing about the job offer, Izzy. I did that because I thought what he was doing to you was shitty. I mean, yeah, you went off the rails at Slay. Butit just shows that you refuse to be a sheep in the public eye. It’s reckless but admirable. And that’s why I want you writing this article.”

Izzy nods, thinking about that. And while she does I think about what she just said too.

“Is that why you just left without so much as a goodbye?” I ask.

“Pretty much. That and I needed…a change.” Her eyes are suddenly glassy but it’s like it has nothing to do with the rum. Her mind is somewhere else. “I had to get away.”

Again, there’s something secretive in her voice. But between the great food, toasty drinks, and the lighting that has her looking like a spring flower in the winter time, I don’t want to ruin the evening. So I don’t press it.

We walk out of the restaurant and the night breeze wraps itself around my lungs. I breathe it in, loving Colorado’s brisk, thin air. Most people come here and can’t breathe. I think it’s easier. It’s clean, unfiltered and there’s no heaviness to it.

For a moment we stand on the curb. My hands are in my pockets and hers are clasped in front of her. I nudge her softly with my elbow.

“Where did you park?”

“To the right.” She nods. “What about you?”

“At home. My place is literally two blocks from here.”

“Oh,” she giggles. “That’s convenient.”

“Yeah…” I smile.

Then she turns to me. “So which way are we going?” At first, I didn't think I heard her right. But when I look at her, there’s that same wild storm in her eyes that I saw five years ago and I know I did. “A nightcap sounds nice right now. And I’m not ready to go home.”

I hold out my elbow and she hooks her hand inside. Then I lead her back to my place, my nerves buzzing with electricity. Izzy kicks her heels off the moment she is in the foyer of my flat and looks around.

“This is nice.”

“Thanks,” I say, hanging my keys on the hook and then tossing my tie aside all together. “It’s home, I guess.”

“You guess?” She asks, circling the kitchen before making her way to the living room. Her mouth drops at the floor to ceiling windows that showcase a high rise view of the city. I stop at the wine cooler and pull out a bottle of chardonnay with a small shrug.

“I mean it’s great and all. But it’s lonely.”

“Even with all the girls you bring home?” She teases.

I chuckle dryly. “Yeah that’s not really a thing.”

“That’s surprising,” she says, sitting on the couch.

I make my way to her with two glasses of wine.

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