I spent thirty bucks on baked goods—and he shut me out like a cold-as-ice CEO. He’s not evenmyboss.
But he’s acting like one.
20
YAPPY HOUR
SAWYER
“I’m thinking of asking Latanya to be my girlfriend.”
This announcement comes from my father as we walk past the gourmet market on a warm Saturday morning in July, passing stands full of flowers—tulips and lavender. Which makes me think of Chloe, since her friend works at the lavender farm.
I snap my gaze away, focusing on Dad. “At your age? Is that even allowed?”
He scoffs. “Watch it. I’m young.” He shoots me a teasing look, puffing out his chest. He’s dressed like a happy old guy living well—khaki shorts, neatly pressed, a peach polo shirt, and barely a care in the world.
It’s good to see him like this, especially since my parents divorced—agood divorce, they called it—a couple of years ago after thirty-five years of marriage. Something I’d never expected to see. But if you asked my sisters, they’d tell you they weren’t entirelysurprised. They both said they always got the sense that our parents liked each other…but they didn’t love each other. I suppose Mom and Dad both seem happier now. They live in the city and have been enjoying the appsa lot.
Or so my sisters tell me. I wish I were as observant as they are. Then maybe I would’ve noticed that Katya was cheating on me.
“Anyway,” I say, shifting topics as we near The Slippery Dipper, its black-and-white awning flapping gently in the breeze, the caricature of a woman in a sudsy bathtub folding and unfolding with the wind. “So you’re finding time to have a girlfriend. I guess you’rereallyenjoying retirement.”
“Highly recommend it,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “How are you finding the new business—with dogs?”
There’s some healthy skepticism in his tone. I get it. When I told him I wanted to open a dog daycare, he cross-examined me for days, even though he’d already retired. He didn’t get it. Didn’t understand why I’d want to make that move after everything we’d accomplished in management consulting. Translation: after he’d turned over to me the business we’d built together.
I take a beat to consider my answer, weighing the tension clinging to my shoulders over the last week—the sexual tension, that is. I’ve had to avoid Chloe as best I can every damn day, including during a very painful team meeting to discuss the upcoming shoot. Being near her? Wanting her? Remembering the night we spent together? It’s fuck-all hard.In my pants.So I visit the other locations more than they honestly need me to. When I’m here, I hang out in my office, texting or Zooming with theother managers. I stay away from the front counter. I keep my head down.
“I like it a lot. I’m enjoying Dog Tails,” I say, reasoning that’s true enough. “I’m focused on growing it, running it smoothly, marketing it smartly.”
“Good. You’ve always been good at that. I was proud of the work you did for Dumont Management Consulting. You really think you can do that with…dog daycare?”
I bristle inside but remind myself these are not new concerns. They’re also, frankly, understandable ones, especially from a man who prides himself on taking work seriously. “I do, Dad. I can apply the same leadership skills across the eight franchises, but also the same philosophies of how we treat employees with respect while growing revenue and improving the bottom line. That’s honestly what I’m trying to do here. Take all the skills I acquired working with you and apply them to this business.”
He stops outside a sculpting studio, his brow furrowed, his eyes flickering with questions. “Is that all you’re trying to do?”
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”
With a tilt of his head, he gives me a thoughtful look, and he’s not unkind as he says, “Your ex. You wanted to get away from all that. How’s that working out for you?”
Not as well as your divorce. But I keep that thought locked up, just like I try to keep the bitterness to myself. I’d rather do well at things than publicly fail like I did at love.
“Great,” I say, since I just don’t want to talk about my ex. With anyone. Maybe especially with him. Don’t need to hash out myfailures with my father. Especially since Katya would say her cheating was my fault.
“Sometimes I feel so alone with you,” she’d said, the night we hashed it out in the kitchen of the home we’d just bought.
“You travel for work! You’re alone on the road all the time,” I’d pointed out, trying to keep my cool but failing. Miserably fucking failing.
I’d been devastated. I’d loved her, I’d trusted her, and aside from the dog allergy, there’d been no red flags.
Maybe it’s best if I don’t date. I do not want to go through that pain again. Not the hurt to my heart, nor the annoying time it took to sell our home, sort out furniture, and cancel a wedding.
I push thoughts of unworn tuxes and unused napkin holders out of my head and look my dad square in the eyes. “I’m not really interested in dating anyway. I’d rather focus on Dog Tails.”
He arches a suspicious brow. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” I say, with as much damn certainty as I can muster.
