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“Group of other military wives,” I said quickly.
“You go to a support group?”
“No,” I said as if offended. “It’s an excuse for a liquid lunch.”
“Gotcha.” I sensed his disappointment, which I didn't like, but did nothing to dissipate. “It’s getting late. Go get Blake so you can beat all the commuters going your way.”
“I have a little more I want to finish up.”
Concern shaped his features. “You look a little pale.”
“I haven’t had a chance to work on my tan lately.”
He grimaced. I couldn’t even make a joke come off as anything less than insulting.
“Let me know before you take off.”
“Sure.”
The scentof garlic and wine hit my nose as soon as I stepped into Dad’s place.
“Hungry?” he asked as I came into the kitchen.
“A little.” I went straight to where Blake and Ella were playing. I scooped him up and kissed his hair. “Hi, baby.”
“How.” He pressed my nose with his finger.
Ella shrieked, but I didn’t acknowledge her.
“We made pasta today.” Dad scooped up some of the noodles to show me.
“Sounds fun.”
“You must be tired.”
“Translation: I look tired.” I kissed his cheek, and he blinked in surprise. “How’d you learn to be so diplomatic?”
“I know my daughter. If I told her she looked tired, the fireworks would start.”
I plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs that had been here my whole life. “She’s too exhausted for fireworks.”
“Wine?”
“Please.”
He filled a stemless goblet of Sauvignon blanc and set it in front of me. I took a sip, savoring the crisp, cool liquid.
“Looks like it’s really coming along over at the garage.” Dad stirred something in the pot and banged the spoon on the side before he propped it on the edge.
“It’s still filthy, but it’s coming, I guess.”
“I couldn’t believe how different the office looks.”
“Wasn’t so bad underneath all that grime.”
“Has Holt mentioned when they might move into the loft?”
“No. But he didn’t speak to me most of yesterday and today.” That earned me my father’syou know better than thatface. “Living and working in the same space is a stupid idea.”
