He almost laughed.Prettyandnicewere such pallid terms for the woman he’d met that day, and neither strictly applied.
Gorgeous. Generous. Self-contained. Inscrutable. Those words captured Rose Owens.
But Rosehadbeen nice to his daughter, and he didn’t care to reveal his thoughts about his colleague to Bea. Not when this conversation already had him skirting landmines.
So, sure. He could agree to Bea’s assessment. “Yes. I’m glad you liked her.”
“She’s really different from Mom.”
In so many ways. Thick and curvaceous where Sabrina had been slight and athletic in frame. Regally tall, rather than petite. Dark-haired, instead of blond. Monochromatic when Sabrina had loved bright colors.
Above all else, Rose was closed, while Sabrina had been a dwelling with the door flung wide open. Too open to contain either her happiness or her discontent, and too open to effectively conceal her extramarital activities from him, although she’d managed to shield Bea. They both had, and they both would. On that they agreed.
But again: landmines.
“Your mother and Ms. Owens both like kids. They have that in common.” He didn’t really want to know, but he had to ask. “Bea, why are you comparing them?”
They’d reached their driveway. She turned the key in the ignition, and the car’s rumble abruptly ceased.
“Mom has Reggie. I’m leaving for college next year.” She unbuckled her seat belt and angled her body toward him. “Dad, you need to start dating. The thought of you in this house all alone—” Her hands fisted in her lap. “I hate it.”
Her concern warmed him, but—dating. The word alone made his heart clench in terror.
He’d been awful at dating. Awkward and too quiet and…boring.
In academic settings, he’d communicated capably. Outside of them, he’d become someone else. Old Sobersides. Mute Boy. Casper. Only he’d been the one ghosted again and again as a teenager.
Sabrina had been his first girlfriend. Likely his last, too.
“I don’t need to date. I’m fine.” He touched her chin with a gentle finger. “And sweet Bea, you should know something. You can be more alone in a bad relationship than if you’d never dated anyone at all.”
Her mouth trembled. “Maybe I should go to Marysburg University.”
God, he’d love that.
“No, Bea.” He spoke over her protest. “No. You are not responsible for me. I can take care of myself, and you’ll have your own independent life to create. So you’re only going to Marysburg U if that’s the college you most want to attend. Period.”
His daughter slumped in her seat. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I am. I will be.” He got out of the car, rounded the bumper, and opened her door. “Come on out. I’m claiming my moment of mush for the day.”
It took her a moment, but she eventually rolled her eyes and accepted his hand as she climbed to her feet. Then he pulled her into the tightest hug he could give without hurting her.
For a moment, he simply breathed in the familiar scent of her apple shampoo. Focused on the familiar sight of blond curls at the crown of her head. Soaked in the familiar feel of her, his baby girl, nestled against him.
But not everything was so familiar. Not her lanky limbs. Not her height.
Soon, her head wouldn’t even rest on his chest anymore.
His throat ached. He closed his eyes for a moment, bereft.
Still, he let her go as soon as she loosened her grip, and he worked hard to keep his tone teasing. “Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite daughter?”
She didn’t seem to notice how hoarse he’d become. “Ha-ha, Dad.”
The rest of the evening passed normally. At least until bedtime, when she gave him another brief hug and then lingered in her doorway, silhouetted by her bedside light. The oversized tee Bea used for a nightie was becoming threadbare, but she refused to let him buy new ones. So stubborn, his girl.
Without warning, she prodded his chest with a fingertip. “Ms. Owens likes you, you know. She smiled at your dumb jokes, and she was watching you when you weren’t looking at her. Which you were totally doing all the time. You should ask her out.”
