Page 140 of Not That Into You

He goes into the family room to check on her and then returns to join me in the kitchen as I finish cleaning up.

He opens the fridge. “Beer?”

“Sure.”

He hands me a beer, and I sit across from him at the breakfast table. The dark circles under his eyes make my stomach twinge with guilt. I know my mom hasn’t been sleeping well, which means my dad hasn’t been sleeping well. She might drive me crazy, but at least I’m able to sleep through the night.

I sip at my beer. “How was work?”

“Fine.” He rubs a hand down his face. “Were you able to work today?”

I grimace. “No. I was too busy keeping Mom in line.” I haven’t gotten any work done since coming home. Although I alerted my clients to my limited availability in advance, I’m still falling behind.

“Hm.”

I take a sip of beer before setting the bottle back on the table and picking at the corner of the label. “Sometimes, I think she starts bending over or picking something up just to mess with me to see if I’m paying attention.”

He grunts. “Probably.”

I shake my head. I love my mom, but our relationship works better when we see each other over infrequent, brief visits.

We both reached our limit sometime on Monday.

My dad clears his throat. “Have you heard from your young man?”

I snort. “He’s not my young man.” I squint at my father. “And we’re not that young.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Fine. Have you heard from Cameron?”

I push down the muddle of feelings Cameron’s name elicits. He’s texted every day, but I have yet to respond. “Ah, yes. He’s sent a few text messages.”

“Hm.”

I hold my breath, hoping my dad will let it go.

“That was good of him to be here for your mom’s surgery.”

“Uh huh.” I take a sip of beer.

“He seems like a good person.”

I sigh. “He is.”

He’s a surprisingly good person, and it’s incredibly irritating. It would be much easier to hold on to my mad if he was actually the asshole I previously assumed he was and not the thoughtful, generous man I now know him to be.

Over the past week, my hurt has given way to sadness. I understand why he took Vanessa to the dinner, but I can’t shake the feeling it proves we don’t belong together in the long run.

“Butterbean.”

I glance up at my dad.

“What’s going on with you two?”

“Dad...”

“I know relationships are your mother’s area, but she’s focused on her recovery right now.”

“As she should be.”

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