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He was a good man. A strong one. He never faltered.
They walked out of the room and Delilah hugged him. He leaned down, inhaling the smell of her strawberry shampoo. “Hey sweetheart.” His voice was gruff.
“Daddy, can we call Cassie? I want her to do my hair.”
He cleared his throat. “Another day, okay?”
She nodded, as though she could remember the day they argued. And thank god, he didn’t think he could cope with another confrontation like that right now.
“I’m going to say bye to Granny,” she said. “And get Lola.”
“I’ll walk you down,” his dad said, opening the door of the studio, so Delilah could walk out. She ran ahead as he and his dad walked out of the door. Pres put his hands in his pockets. It was another glorious day. Not a cloud in the sky.
He wished he could appreciate it.
“Everything okay?” his dad asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“You just sighed.”
“Did I?” Pres frowned. Was he going mad now? “Just got a few things on my mind.”
“Want to talk about them?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want Delilah to hear.”
That brought his dad up short. “Is it something serious?”
Delilah had made it to the house and was running into the kitchen, while he and his dad were only halfway there.
“Cassie got a call from the record label. They confirmed they don’t want the band, but they do want her.”
There it was. He’d let it out. But he didn’t feel any better.
“As a solo singer?”
Pres shook his head. “To join the band they’ve chosen.”
“Well that’s kind of cool,” his dad said. “Isn’t it?”
“She says she won’t go.”
His dad said nothing. They’d stopped walking now, the two of them standing in the middle of the yard. Pres’ hands were still in his pockets. His dad turned to look at him.
“Why not?”
Pres swallowed hard. “She says she doesn’t want to do it without us.”
His dad mused on his words. “Is she afraid you’ll break up or something?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t talk much about it. I stopped at hers on the way here.”
“Maybe you need to reassure her. Tell her you’ll still be here,” his dad said. “If that’s what you want, I mean.”
Pres pulled one hand out of his pocket and ran it through his hair. Truth was, he didn’t know what he wanted.
Apart from time to stop.
