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I shake my head. ‘Well, I kind of like it. It suits you. So, you want to get breakfast in the city?’
‘Yeah, I’m going to see Zach when we’re done.’
‘Zach?’
She shrugs again and I wonder if it’s legitimate for me to strap those shrugging shoulders to the seat.
‘My boyfriend. He goes to NYU.’
I feel my eyes attempt to pop right out of my head.
‘A new boyfriend? He’s in college? What was wrong with the other kid, from your class? Where is Zach from? He’s too old for you.’
‘Dad, he’s like two years older than me. Chill out. You’re gonna give yourself a coronary.’
‘A coron… This discussion isn’t over.’
Like a petulant child, I purse my lips, knock the truck into drive, and pull out of the perfect freakin’ suburb toward the city… and, incidentally, toward Zach, my daughter’s college boyfriend.
I park in the basement garage of my building and we walk to the Butterfly Café, a new place that Cady tells me is ‘shabby chic.’
‘What exactly is shabby chic?’ I ask, tucking my white wicker chair under the white table. I nudge the floral planter from the middle of the table to one side so I can see my daughter.
She chuckles. Damn, I love that sound. Always have.
‘It’s this stuff,’ she says. ‘The whitewash, the paisley prints, flowers. Kind of vintage but modern. Pretty.’
‘Right. And that pink hair, is that shabby chic?’
Her brows scrunch and her button nose wrinkles. The sight is like someone holding a hot-water bottle to my chest.
I fight against my laughter. ‘Why do you have that look? It’s a wash, it’s pink, and it’s a little bit like that Frenchie character fromGrease, so it’s vintage. Am I wrong?’
‘Oh my God, Dad. On so many levels, just, oh my God. First, the only part of shabby chic that relates to my hair is chic. And, seriously, you know the characters fromGrease?’
I do laugh now. ‘It’s a classic. Plus, your mom used to force it on me.’
Just like that, my laugh cuts off and I’m staring at the laminated breakfast menu in front of me, trying not to remember times spent watchingGreasethrough one eye as I was in a lip-lock with Alice.
Cady orders quinoa porridge – her latest fad – and I order an omelet, as she fills me in on her summer break so far. As our breakfast plates are set in front of us with peppermint tea for her and an Americano for me, she gets to the story of her first meeting with Zach.
‘He plays in a band and a bunch of us went to the gig, in Brooklyn.’
‘Brooklyn? You’re only eighteen.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘It was on campus. Plus, we stayed over. Amber knows one of the other guys in the band.’
I almost choke on my eggs. ‘You stayed over? With who? With this Zach?’
‘Well, there were a bunch of us. It wasn’t like it was just the two of us. Anyway, like you said, I am eighteen.’
Jesus. I feel my head starting to heat. Any second now, my gray T-shirt will be showing my stressed-out-dad perspiration under the arms.
I eye her over my coffee cup as I take a mouthful and try to think of how best to handle the situation. ‘Does Alice know you stayed over?’
Yep, I’ll start by hoping Alice has already dealt with it.
Cady shrugs. ‘She knows I stayed out, yes.’
