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“And seriously. You’ll look gorgeous no matter what. Wear a paper bag if you want. I just want to spend the evening with you.”
I took a deep breath. I still had no idea what to wear, but his adoration was touching. I exhaled slowly.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll figure it out. Brandon?”
“What, Red?”
“No gifts. I mean it.”
He chuckled again. “We’ll see.”
“Imeanit!” I yelped.
“Okay, okay, I got it. Listen, I need to finish up some stuff and get some sleep. See you tomorrow, beautiful.”
“See you then,” I said, feeling my insides once more turn to goo. “Bye.” I tossed my phone onto the bed, all thoughts of my paper temporarily cast aside. “Jane?” I knew my night-owl roommate would still be up.
“Yeah?” she called from her room.
I looked at the pile of dresses flung on my bed. My bank account wasn’t going to like me very much this month, but there wasn’t much to be done about that.
“You want to go shopping again tomorrow? I’m going to need a new dress.”
* * *
After I finished my paper,I was too ramped up to study, which was unfortunate, considering I had a lot to do the next day. And yet…there I was, lying on my bed like a grumpy teenager at nine o’clock at night.
Rolling to my side, I glanced at the picture on my bedside table of me, my dad, and Bubbe on the day I graduated from NYU. The purple graduation gown made me look like Barney and turned my hair fluorescent in comparison. But it was one of the few pictures I had of the three of us. Someone had taken it candidly by mistake; while I was giving a cheesy, perfunctory smile, Dad and Bubbe were beaming at me, their eyes glossy with pride and love. I loved that picture because it reminded me of how critical they were to my life—how I wouldn’t be a fraction of the person I was without their unconditional support.
Bubbe’s face had been decidedly darker when she’d mentioned the ticket in Dad’s pocket. He hadn’t owned up to anything when I’d spoken to him. It had been a few weeks since then. Maybe it was time for a serious call. He needed to know I loved him enough to care too.
Dad’s phone rang twice before it went to voicemail. I checked the clock. It was possible he had a gig, but usually he only took them on Fridays and Saturdays because of his early morning hours during the week. Still, even though he usually had to be up by five, he wasn’t likely to be asleep before ten o’clock. I decided to try the house line.
Bubbe, of course, picked up after only one ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, Bubbe, it’s me.”
“Skylar,bubbela! What are you doing calling here? Is everything all right?”
“Oh, sure, it’s fine. Dad wasn’t picking up. Thought I’d try here. Is he there?”
I heard a brief scratching over the phone, as if she was writing something down. Probably Sudoku.
“Your father? No, Danny’s not here. In fact…”
She trailed off, taking a deep breath that signified clearly a subject of major interest. In Bubbe’s world, that either meant one of two things: gossip or tragedy. My stomach clenched as I waited to hear which one it was.
“Believe it or not, your father…is on…a date!” she crowed.
I nearly dropped the phone in shock. My father was the consummate bachelor—in my entire life, I had seen him go on maybe two dates that didn’t involve my mother. I was never sure if that was because he still carried a torch for Janette Chambers, or if he was so ruined by that relationship that he never wanted to take that risk again. But on both occasions, he’d come home before ten, sat down at the piano, and played until Bubbe threw a newspaper at him so she could fall asleep.
“Are you sure?” I asked once I’d recovered my voice. “A date? Really?”
“Sure, I’m sure,” Bubbe insisted. “They even picked something up at the house before they left for dinner. I met her!”
I frowned, slightly hurt. Dad wasn’t just on a date—he’d been dating someone long enough to bring her home to meet his mother. And he hadn’t mentioned her to me.
“Well, what’s she like?” I asked. “What’s her name?”
