I’ll make it clear that none of this is on her. That I’m the problem. That I let my guard down and mistook… whatever this is… for something it isn’t.
It’s attraction. Lust. Biology and bad timing. That’s all.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
Because the truth — the one that creeps in when my chest tightens and my pulse skips at the thought of her — feels much more dangerous.
My phone buzzes as my signal returns, and suddenly notifications flood in. I roll my eyes, expecting another avalanche of emails. But then I see it — five missed calls from Matilda. Two from my dad’s number. And a voicemail.
A sharp pulse of worry hits my chest.
I press play.
Hi Henry, it’s— me. Your dad’s being discharged from hospital. I tried calling a couple times, but I know you said you had no signal. I’m calling an Uber and going to pick him up from the hospital and take him home. I hope that’s okay. Okay, well… bye. Call when you can.
The robotic voice asks if I want to save or delete the message. I just sit there, stunned.
Matilda went to pick up my dad.
I hit call before I’ve even thought it through.
She answers on the first ring. “Henry.” Her voice is soft, uncertain.
“Matilda, I’m so sorry I missed your calls. Where’s my dad now?”
“He’s here with me. At home, I mean — atyourdad’s home.”
She sounds flustered, and I can’t stop the stupid smile tugging at my mouth.
“You’re still there? Okay, I’m coming now. Is he okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine. We’re just chatting.” Then I hear his voice in the background.
“Henry! I think we should keep her!”
There’s a sputter from Matilda — tea, by the sound of it — and I can’t help laughing.
“I’ll be there soon,” I say, hanging up before my dad can recruit her into the family.
By the time the Uber pulls up outside the house, I’m more restless than I’ve been in months. I step out and freeze.
Laughter.
Real, full-bellied laughter echoes from the living room — my dad’s laughter — a sound I haven’t heard in years.
It stops me cold.
I follow it into the room and there they are.
My dad sits in his old armchair, his eyes bright, his face alive with joy. Matilda is leaning toward him, showing him something on her phone. They’re both laughing so hard they can barely breathe.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite so perfect.
Then she spots me in the doorway, and everything in her stiffens. She jumps up, straightening her blouse like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t.
“Henry — sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
My dad grins. “Son! Glad you could make it. What a delight your assistant is.”
