Page 108 of Heartbreak & Cupcakes
“Dad, I don’t even know if it was him.” I lied. Of course it was. Who else would do all of this? “And no, I haven’t gotten a hold of him.”
“You know, I wasn’t sure about him when you told me that you were going to be shacking up with him—”
“As a nanny,” I clarified in vain.
“—but man, that security system he put in is top notch.”
It turned out the way to my dad’s heart was a state-of-the-art security system. It had bells and whistles I wasn’t even sure how to operate. In a moment of either weakness, insanity, or stupidity I’d given my father access to the online cameras. Now he could check in, day or night, on the cameras that were in the bakery and also outside the apartment to make sure that I was okay.
I had a feeling he watched them constantly. It was worse than the Citizen app.
“Yeah, they are great.”
“You pretty much just won the lottery but you sound like you did when you got your first C in school.”
“My only C,” I clarified. I didn’t deserve that grade in Mrs. Campbell’s eighth grade English class. My essay on my earliest childhood memory was at least a grade B level. Both Charli and I maintained to this day that the only reason I received it was so that Mrs. Campbell, who had a not-so-subtle crush on my dad, could bait him into showing up to parent-teacher night. She graded it harshly so she could see my dad—it didn’t work.
My dad never came to school functions. Charli said it was because he was always bombarded by the moms, and teachers. I sort of agreed with her. Women had always loved my dad. Even now, in his early seventies, he still had women half his age hitting on him. Not that he ever paid attention to any of that.
Sadly, since he lost my mom, I’d never even seen him notice another woman. I hated thinking of my dad as being lonely. I knew that he had his work, but there was more to life than work.
Said the girl that gave up dating to throw herself completely into her work.
Apparently, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
“So… what’s wrong?”
“I’m just tired.”
“You work too hard.”
Said the man who was still working full-time at seventy-one.
“I wonder where I get that from?”
My dad putting off retirement was a conversation-dance we’d been having for the better part of a decade. I wanted him to slow down, at least go to part-time. He was having none of it.
Instead of addressing my comment, he ended the call.
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you, Sassy.”
“Love you, too, Popperoni Pizza.”
When I hung up, I wondered if my dad was ever going to turn in his badge. Even though his job was mainly done at a desk; as deputy chief it was mostly management, administrative, and meetings, but I still worried about him. Anything could happen. He could get called to a scene and…
I never allowed myself to think about the and.
There was a knock at the door and I jumped off the barstool and smiled. I’d texted Charli inviting her over for spaghetti and wine, but she’d said she was already tucked in bed. I wondered if a certain professional athlete was in town and it was a “Cole Night.” He was the only person she’d cancel plans or miss my spaghetti for.
Anyway, it must not have been him that she was with because there was no way that she’d be here if he was in town.
“I knew you couldn’t resist my spaghe—" My mouth dropped open when I saw who was standing on the landing.
It wasn’t Charli. It was Alex.
I’d heard the phrase a sight for sore eyes, but I’d never truly appreciated the sentiment before. Alex stood before me wearing jeans and a long-sleeved thermal that molded to his chiseled chest and muscular arms. His face had a darker sprinkling of stubble than I’d ever seen him rock and it gave him a bad-boy edge that I’d thought I’d grown out of but, apparently, still very much enjoyed if the party my hormones were throwing was any indication.
“Expecting someone?” he asked.
