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“Fuck that. Shotgun.” He lifts a brow.
“Sounds good to me,” Holden agrees. “I can sleep in the backseat the whole way.”
* * *
SOPHIE
I hit send and watch as the email on my screen flickers and disappears, a sent icon appearing next to it. Attached to it is the final report. My mind is full of excitement about the weekend and getting to see Liam again.
Michael, on the other hand, is getting worked up about the potential storm.
“It’s gonna hit on Saturday afternoon,” he tells me. “I’ll be here in case it’s worse than it looks.”
Normally, I’d be annoyed because severe weather events are our glory opportunities. Any other storm and I’d be tracking it in real time all weekend, writing updates for the website and our social media and getting excited about barometer readings. But instead I’ll be seeing it from the other side. As a guest at a party that might get rained on.
“You remember I’m away this weekend, right?” I ask him.
“Yep. If you could just be in early Monday morning that’ll be great. I’ll take the late shift and Madison is working the socials.”
“Cool.” I turn back to my laptop, determined to get my work finished on time. And I do, despite the fact that I had to record some extra slots for the weekend’s web coverage. They are explainer videos. About how storms form and how we track and monitor them. It’s pretty dry stuff but the producer assures me he’s going to intersperse the video with images from real storm events and the aftermath so hopefully it won’t be as dull as I think.
At five I pack up my bag, including the chocolates that Liam sent over today. He should be en route to Misty Lakes now. He called last night and told me about Eli and Holden traveling with him, and though he sounded grumpy about it I think he was pleased, too.
His brothers are his best friends, I’ve learned that much from being around him and Myles. And everybody needs their best friends.
Which reminds me. I have to type out a message to Lauren, one long overdue. I promised her an update and I haven’t had the chance to do it. To save time, I decide to voice record, hitting send as I walk down the sidewalk toward the historic district, where I’m meeting my dad for dinner.
This is the first time I’m seeing him since our embarrassing encounter, although we’ve spoken on the phone. It still feels awkward but he’s my dad and we need to get over this. I need to see him fully clothed and he probably needs to see me unembarrassed.
“Sweetheart.” He’s early, as usual, and when I walk into Ray’s Steakhouse he stands and embraces me. “Thank you for meeting me.”
He looks tired. And suddenly old. Maybe it’s the lighting in here, I’m not sure. I hug him back and we both take a seat.
“Sophie…” he begins, just as I blurt out, “I’m sorry.”
We both laugh and then I gesture at him to go first.
“Darling,” he says. “I should have warned you about Jenny. I wasn’t expecting you two to meet that way.”
“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “You’re an adult. You’re both single, what you do is your business.”
The waiter arrives to take our orders and we give them quickly. We’ve been coming to this steakhouse since I was tiny. Every birthday was celebrated here growing up. I used to go crazy for their milkshakes. Now I’m ordering a cocktail to give myself some Dutch courage to talk to my dad.
“It has something to do with you, too,” he says. “You’re my daughter. And it doesn’t matter how old you are, you’ll always miss your mom.”
My throat goes tight. He’s right, I do. Every day. I miss her warmth, her soft hugs, the way she smelled.
“I miss her, too,” he tells me. “So much.”
I blink away the tears. “I know.”
“And Jenny, she’s a fine woman. But she’ll never replace her.” He reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “I need you to know that.”
“I didn’t think she would. But it’s okay that you have a girlfriend. Mom’s been gone a while.” And he’s been so lonely. I’ve hated seeing him that way.
“I’d like to say that your mom would have liked her,” he says. “But I’m not sure she would.” He leans forward like he’s about to confess. “Your mom hated ‘new age mumbo jumbo’.” He crooks his fingers into mock quotation marks.
I bark out a laugh. “She did,” I agree.
