Page 56 of Compassion

“What’s the problem occurring in your unorthodox situation with Pizza Dude?”

The hesitation to respond has him doing it for me.

“You’re into him.”

“Uh…erm…well, we’ve become um…good friends.”

“You’re falling in love with him.”

“I – Um – See – I don’t think-” Cutting myself off is quickly done yet collecting my composure is slower. “Dad, we haven’t even been on an official date. I think using the L word is a bit like trying to swallow the elephant whole.”

He lightly chuckles prior to stating, “Then how about starting with that official date.”

“I didn’t think he wanted that or anything like that, but then I went out on a date with another guy tonight-”

“Dr.Grey's Anatomy.”

“-and he flipped out. Okay, flipped out might be an exaggeration. He didn’t Thanos smash the island or anything. He just…looked…upset.”

“Upset like the woman he’s into yet probably will never feel good enough for went out with another man while he was at home waiting all day to see her for dinner because he knows it’s the closest, he’s most likely going to get to an actual date?”

Guilt of new portions prompts me to whisper out. “Maybe…”

“Look, sugar, let me preface this by saying I know how your mom feels about you and dating. I know how she’s been pushing you to replace Chris in your life for the last few years with her handpicked candidates. I know she thinks you’re not trying to move forward and are simply lingering in a love lost.”

That’s the thing, though. I’m not.

“However, no one asks me my opinion on the situation, so I keep my mouth shut. But if you were to ask me…if youwantedmy thoughts on you and dating and Pizza Dude…I would say you shouldn’t keep going out with the wrong men in an attempt to refrain from upsetting anyone – I.E. your mother – and that it’s okay to do what’s best foryou, sugar. Which means,yes, you should confess how you feel to your houseguest and give him a chance to tell you how he’s into you too versus continuing to assume he’s not. Or you coming to the wrongful conclusion that maybe he does like you for more than a roommate but that it’s just a result of Stockholm Syndrome, something that isn’t possible since you’veinvitedhim into your life and aren’t holding him captive.”

The deep groan that escapes is followed by a grumped question. “Why are you such a good detective?”

“I told you. Kojak andAction Jackson.”

“You said Columbo and Shaft!”

“Did I?” He teasingly taunts. “I think it’s late and you’re hearing things.”

This. Man.

“Hopefully you heard therightthings from about what to do regarding your self-proclaimed unorthodox situation and will be texting me pictures soon thatincludePizza Dude’s face and not just his impressive handiwork.”

The bathroom is fucking gorgeous. Between the new cabinets and the new lighting and the nature-themed book décor, I kind of wanna switch where I shower.

“Get some rest, sugar,” Dad warmly insists. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too.”

Our call ends and to no surprise, it feels as though a weight has been removed from my chest, allowing the butterflies that had been dormant to swarm again.

First thing in theactualmorning I’m gonna tell Archer how I feel. Just rip it off like a price tag instead of peeling at it like a price sticker. Ugh. I hate price stickers on books. Way to ruin covers or back covers. And it takes sooooo fucking long to carefully remove it to not damage the book. Hm? Oh. A little off track but you see the comparison, right?

After managing to get a couple hours of sleep, I shoot my boss a text to tell her that the half day I was going to take will be a full day and get the coffee pot going the instant I hear Archer slip into the downstairs guest half-bath for his morning routine.

Trying to not slam the cabinets closed due to my overly anxious disposition fails poorly.

Rather than launching us a peaceful start, banging and clamoring and shouted swears from dropping things echo throughout the entire residence prompting Archer to appear at the edge of the kitchen with a concerned expression. “You okay, sweetheart?”

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