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“You ok, dad?”
He waves his hand, dismissing my worry. “I was cleaning the gutters this weekend, and I tweaked my back getting off the ladder. Nothing to worry about.”
“Why didn’t you wait for me to help you?” I ask while closing the fridge. Turning to face him, I hand my dad a beer. Reaching for his keys, he uses one of them to pop the top off the bottle. “What would have happened if you fell while I was out of town? No one would have found you. You could’ve been laying there for days.”
“Aurora Sofia, quit fussing over me. I’m more than capable of cleaning out my own gutters,” he scolds me as if I’m still five years old. “Besides, you know Mrs. Gonzalez was probably watching me through the window. Nosey old bat. She’d have seen me fall and called someone.”
“All I’m asking is that you not give me any more reason to worry. Pretty soon, I won’t just be down the road.”
“Don’t remind me,” he grumbles around the opening of the beer bottle. “Speaking of the wedding, what’s left to do?”
“Not a lot,” I tell him while chopping up the cilantro. “The original bakery in Austin I had picked to make the wedding cake called last week. Somehow, they triple booked our date. Since we were the last to schedule, we’re screwed. So now I have to find a new bakery and do the tastings all over again.” The idea of sitting and eating free cake isn’t really that horrible. But I fell in love with the design the last decorator was going to do. “I have an appointment this Saturday at the new place. Wanna tag along, old man?”
“No, you and Brad don’t need my opinion on whether to choose chocolate or vanilla.”
“Brad will actually be out of town this weekend.” My dad gives me a knowing look, but I stop him before he can say anything. “Don’t start. All he cares about is if I’m happy. These little details don’t matter to him.”
“Take Jackson with you.”
Before I can explain how I feel bad dragging Jackson along with me to do the wedding stuff my soon-to-be husband is supposed to be doing, I hear the front door open and close.
“Take me where?” Jackson asks while heading straight to the fridge. He opens it up and pulls a beer out, popping the top off with his truck key the exact same way my dad did just minutes earlier.
“Aurora is going cake tasting by herself on Saturday. She asked me to go, but I told her to take you instead.”
Jackson looks at me, and I sigh. “You don’t have—”
“I’m in,” he cuts me off. “What kind of person says no to free cake?”
