Page 164 of The Doctors Will See You Now

Me: Yes. It’s the nice way of saying sexy. But I refuse to use that word in the same sentence in which I’m talking about my father.

Dad: Do you think Nicole thinks I’m a silver fox?

Me: Yes. And before you ask me anything else, I’m ending this conversation because it is about to reach awkward places. Call Mom or Jean-Pierre if you want to continue it further.

Dad: Love you, Low.

Me: Love you too, Dad.

I set my phone back on the table and prepared to dive back into work, but my phone buzzed again with a message.

Dad: See you at 3?

Me: I thought you said 4?

Dad: No, I said 3.

I loved my dad, but holy hell, he was driving me crazy.

Me: Dad. I can scroll back through the messages and see that you said 4. So, yes, I’ll see you at 4. Now, leave me alone until then so I can work for a little bit.

Dad: Do you want me to help you pick out your outfit for tonight, sweetheart?

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Me: I’m fine, Dad. I’ve got it.

Dad: Are you sure? I think it might be good if you wear that cute pink dress with the white bow.

Me: You mean the same dress I wore at my high school graduation?

Dad: Was it that long ago?

Me: Uh, yeah. And since I’m 29, I’m pretty sure I no longer have that dress.

Dad: What about the purple dress with the ruffly things at the bottom?

Holy hell. Now he was referring to my junior prom dress.

Me: Bye, Dad.

Before he could send back any more texts, I turned my phone off. A daughter could only handle so much of helping her father get ready for a date.

I was also going to be attending my father’s date, as the date for his date’s son—who also happened to be a man I pretty much despised.

Good Lord, tonight is probably going to be a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

“They’ll be here soon,” I told my mom as she paced a tiny two-foot line in front of me, doing her best to wear a hole through the floor of Tavern on Park, the quaint but opulent banquet hall.

My dad and Linda were already out and mingling, and hors d’oeuvres passed every few moments on silver trays. They’d gone all out for their fifteen-year celebration, and I didn’t blame them. Linda and my father were the perfect couple my mom and dad had never been. A yin and yang of sorts, but quiet and loving—two qualities my parents together had never been.

Still, my mom was a woman scorned, even if she knew she wasn’t right for my dad and that he wasn’t right for her. I personally think she’d just wanted to be the person to leave rather than the one to be left. But after nearly two decades, the facts weren’t changing.

“We should have picked them up.”

“Mom, this is New York. Picking people up is nice and all, but it’s about ten times the trouble. They wanted to meet us here. They’ll be here soon.”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “I just wanted to shock Linda.”