Page 59 of Love is Fake

My cell buzzes, interrupting the bleak turn my thoughts have taken.

“Hey, Dad.” I smile into the phone at my father’s familiar voice.

“I was starting to wonder if you’ve forgotten my number,” my dad jokes.

“Sorry, things have been busy.” And I knew the next time we spoke, I’d have to deliver on the promise I made to Lennox. I’d be lying if I said my nervousness over that hasn’t stopped me from picking up the phone.

“You work too hard, Bizz,” my dad says reproachfully. As always, his protective instincts are on point when it comes to me even though I’m not 5 years old anymore.

“Says the man who doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘vacation’.” I roll my eyes, glad he can’t see me as it’s one of his pet peeves. I smile a little to myself as I think about how it also drives Lennox mad – sometimes in the best possible way.

“You sound…happy, Bizzy.” And it’s not just my dad’s words that give me pause, it’s the incredulous tone in his voice, as if my happiness was something he couldn’t easily identify because it presented itself so rarely.

It hits me that I am. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and I know how much of it has to do with Lennox.

“I – um, I’ve met someone,” I admit, taking the plunge. I’ve never told my father about anyone I’ve been dating, but Lennox is so much more than that, so much more than just another guy.

He blows out a deep breath. “About damn time!”

“What happened?” I hear Marianne’s voice in the background.

“Izzy’s in love!” My dad doesn’t move the phone away from his mouth as he hollers back to Marianne, making me wince as he nearly blows out my eardrum.

“I didn’t say that,” I clarify, blushing, once Marianne has stopped sending up her messages of thanks to the Great Almighty who she has apparently been praying to for exactly this reason. You would think the big man upstairs would have more pressing matters to deal with than my love life, but there you have it.

“You didn’t need to,” Pops points out. “You haven’t told me about any men in your life since…well…ever. So, if you’re mentioning him, I’m guessing there’s a good reason.”

I don’t say anything, struck by how closely my dad has been paying attention without me having any idea.

“Have you told him?” he asks, once my silence has stretched out.

“Told him what, daddy?”

He grunts as if to say he knows I’m purposely being difficult. “Have you told him how you feel?”

“Not yet,” I mutter, questioning why I ever thought talking to my father about my love life was a good idea.

“Well, what are you waiting on?” he asks impatiently. He’s like a dog with a damn bone that it isn’t willing to let go. Not until he gets to the marrow of it.

“It…it just has to be the right time,” I answer, completely copping out.

My father sighs heavily in that way that tells me he’s about to lay down some solid truths. I brace myself to hear them, already cringing just a tad. “Bizzy, you’ll wait your whole damn life if you keep waiting for therighttime, because it doesn’t exist. If I’d waited for the ‘right time’ to open my business, I’d still be working for someone else. If I’d waited for the ‘right time’ to ask Marianne out to dinner, I’d still be spending all my eveningsalone. If I’d waited for the ‘right time’ to be a father, then I wouldn’t have you and that would have been a damn tragedy, Bizz.”

The emotion in his voice makes my throat threaten to close – my dad doesn’t do mushy.

“Did you ever regret it, Dad?” I ask, the question spilling out of me as if it couldn’t be held back any longer.

“You? Never! Not even for one damn second!” He sounds so horrified I might ever have doubted his love for me. It has been the one constant my entire life. He deserves more than that from me and I feel a little ashamed of myself for ever questioning how much he wanted me.

But I wasn’t the ‘it’ I was referring to in my question, so I rush to set him straight.

“I meant falling in love with my mother, Dad,” I tell him. “Do you ever regret it? Because she left…”

It’s something I’ve never asked him, partly because I was afraid of what he’d say, but also because I couldn’t imagine that hedidn’tregret it. Her leaving brought him to his knees, he told me that more than once.

“If you could go back in time, would you have avoided that diner where you met? Would you have done it differently?”

I chew my nail nervously, his silence heavy at the other end of the line. I wonder if he’s going to answer or if he’s just going to say it’s none of my business and move on.