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There’s a touch of defensiveness there that has me even more worried. My dad has always been one of those completely confident guys who never gives a crap about other people’s criticism. He only defends himself when he knows there’s a sliver of vulnerability.
“But you guys are happy, right?”
“Sure, of course.”
He holds my eyes, but it feels deliberate, like he’s trying too hard to convince me. Or convince himself.
“Besides, I don’t think it’s your parents’ romantic life that has you holding that champagne in a death grip,” he says, lifting his eyebrows.
I smile wanly. “Nice deflection.”
“Talk to me, Georgiekins. Who’s the boy?”
My smile is real this time. The boy. Such a dad thing to say.
And maybe a little advice can’t hurt. I decide to go for it. “Okay, you’re a smart guy,” I say.
He smiles. “Thank you, daughter.”
“You’re welcome, Father. And as a smart guy, and someone who’s coming up on his thirtieth wedding anniversary…do you think it’s possible that opposites really can attract, or are opposites just…opposites?”
“Well.” He sips his coffee. “I know for your mother and me, it was our similarities that attracted us. We were both driven. Focused. Both wanted a darling daughter named Georgie—”
“Naturally,” I say, miming a sitting curtsey.
“As for whether opposites can attract, certainly they can. But whether they can last…”
His gaze goes kind of far away, an expression I’ve never seen, and I lean forward, eyes wide. “Dad,” I whisper. “Are you thinking about an ex-girlfriend right now?”
He laughs, but it’s too quick, and it’s nervous.
I gasp in mock horror. “You are.”
His eyes dart toward the door, but my mom’s still in her home office talking to Europe or Asia or wherever.
“Spill,” I say. “I won’t tell Mom.”
“Oh, she already knows. I was dating someone else when I met her.”
“Scandalous!” I say. “Who!”
“Nobody you know.”
“Well, I should hope not—that would be weird. But come on, details. I had no idea you were a ladies’ man.”
I swear to God, he blushes, just a little. Adorable. “Her name was Heidi. We dated, just for a year or so. And then I met your mother and decided she was a better long-term match.”
My heart twists a little as I realize his voice goes just a touch flatter when he talks about my mother than when he talks about this Heidi.
“What was she like?” I ask, after looking guiltily over my shoulder at the still-empty doorway. I feel dreadfully disloyal to my mother, yet wildly curious.
“She was colorful and…delicate,” he says, looking uncomfortable with the word.
“Like a rainbow,?
? I say.
“Uh, I guess. Heidi was a dreamer, always talking about the things she wanted to do and the places she wanted to go, but no one dream ever lasted for more than a day before it was replaced by another. It was exhausting, and yet…”
