Page 67 of Entangled
“Not as beautiful as you,” Dad murmurs, touching her cheek.
“Always a charmer, Frederic.”
“You know it.”
The ache in my chest deepens. While I’m truly happy for them, I miss my mom. Beyond that, I wish I were capable of moving past our family tragedy as Dad has.
“What have you been up to, Rowan?” Greta asks, as if sensing the display of affection is getting to me.
“Well, I, uh, kinda met someone.”
Her warm, brown eyes light up. “Oh? Who’s the lucky man?”
My gaze darts to my father, who looks on with interest as he eyes me over the rim of his wine glass. I turn my attention back to Greta before I lose my nerve. “His name is Henry. He’s a former Marine.”
“How did you meet?” Dad asks, obviously perplexed by the world of recluse dating.
I assaulted him with a sex toy.“Funny story, actually.” I dab my mouth with my napkin. “He, um, delivered a package.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Is that code for something?”
I snort. “No, Dad. He’s literally a delivery guy. You know Tony, the sweet older man who brings me stuff?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Well, he had a heart attack, and this guy took over his route. Don’t worry—Tony will be fine,” I add when Dad’s eyes widen. “Anyway, since Henry shows up here pretty much daily, we’ve gotten to know one another.”
Dad nods. “How old is he?”
Oh, shit.“Um, in his thirties.” He doesn’t need to know Henry’s only a week away from forty.
He sets down his glass. “You might as well tell me the rest, Rowan-Anastasia.” He leans in. “Because you know I’m going to do a background check either way.”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously?”
He smiles. “Dead serious.”
“He’s thirty-nine, OK? His name is Henry Flynn. He’s divorced, originally from upstate New York, and as I already mentioned, he was a Marine.”
Dad lifts an eyebrow. “Was? From my understanding a Marine is always a Marine.”
“I mean, yeah. He’s still a Marine, but he was wounded in action and retired with a Purple Heart.” I leave out the details about his imprisonment because it isn’t any of their business. “Now he works for RPS so he can stay fit.”
Greta flashes me a conspiratorial grin. “I bet he has big muscles from lifting all those heavy boxes.”
“He does.” Heat crawls up my neck. “Not that I’ve seen them.”
Dad laughs. “Should I leave you two alone to gossip?”
“Nope. That’s all I planned to say.” I chug my water to cool off.
“Is he a nice man?” Greta asks.
“Very much so. He treats me well.”
Dad reaches across the table to take my hand. “I hope to meet him one day.”
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