Page 30 of Take This Heart
Dad chuckles. "Maybe. Your mom always saw right through me too. I had a hard time telling her I didn’t like one of her plans, but she’d know it by the look on my face.” He shakes his head. “You’re so much like her.” He looks at me and smiles.
I swallow the lump in my throat and pick at the frayed edge of my sleeve. "You have that appointment next week…I want to go with you."
He shakes his head immediately. "No way, Goldie."
"Dad, please?—“
"I appreciate it, buttercup. But I need you to keep living your life. Not hovering over mine. Besides, you’ve got a job to keep up with.”
"Wanting to make sure you're okay isn't hovering.”
"It is if it makes you stop doing what you love."
I blink back tears and take his hand. “I’m almost done with the project at work. I’m going to give my two weeks’ notice on Monday. I love interior design and now I can put all my focus into designing somethingwewant. I’m reallylooking forward to it actually. I’ve spent a lot of time fulfilling my customers’ wishes and now I’d like to make your dreams come true!”
“Goldie…I know I really talked up this property and the dreams I had forallof us, but I’ve had time to think about it, and it isn’t fair for any of you to put your lives on hold for this. Follow the course of whatyouwant to do.”
I sigh. “God, you're stubborn," I mutter.
He grins. "Look who’s talking."
“I want to be here, Dad. I want to be here for all of it.”
“Less so before you knew I was sick.”
I pause because, of course, he’s right. “I’ve had time to think about things too, and I’m excited about everything. I think the potential here is huge and I promise, I want in. Like Noah said—the bonus is the time I’ll get to spend with you.”
There's a beat of silence, filled only by the sound of the water lapping against the shore.
"So," he says casually, "what is your deal with Milo?”
I nearly choke on my sip of beer. "There's no deal. He's...infuriating."
Dad laughs. “With you, he certainly seems to be. You’re not quite yourself with him either, though, I’ve noticed. Felt like swords were about to be drawn earlier.”
"He's arrogant and bossy and he wants to change the history of things that shouldn’t be changed!"
"Mm-hmm."
“He thinks he knows everything.”
“Ahh.”
"And he’s smug."
"Mm-hmm."
I glare at him. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"Maybe." He shrugs again, looking far too pleased withhimself. "Or maybe I think you two are more alike than you realize."
“Watch your mouth,” I say, horrified.
He just laughs harder, and somehow, despite everything swirling around us—the tension, the fear, the uncertainty—I find myself laughing too.
The next morning dawns crisp and clear, with the kind of bright, golden sunlight that should make me feel hopeful. And I am hopeful as I take in glimpses of the water on my drive toward Wildbriar Lane.
Kitty-Corner Cafe is bustling with the chaos that fills me up. Bosco grumbles at everyone who walks in, a staple at the cafe.
