Page 26 of Loathe at First Sight

“Lizzie, I didn’t call this lunch to bust your balls. You had your own life, and you were busy. I get it.”

Sure, I was busy. But part of it is that I just didn’t want to come home. My life seemed far too glamorous and important to take a break from it to come back to my small hometown.

But I guess his version sounds better.

He goes on, “I’m just happy you're back now—even if it’s not under the best of circumstances.”

“Me too.”

“I know you’re just saying that, but I appreciate the effort.” He smiles. “So, how are you doing?”

“Honestly?”

He nods.

“A little tired of people asking me how I’m doing.”

His nose scrunches up. “Sorry. You’re my daughter, though. I’m allowed to worry.”

“I know. I’m okay, I guess. Just still trying to adjust.”

“It’ll take time, but I’m sure that you’ll do just fine. Do you have any idea what you want to do now?”

“No clue,” I answer honestly.

“Do you think you’ll ever want to move back to LA?”

“No,” I say quickly. “I don't think there's anything left for me there.”

“Fair enough.”

The girl who was ogling my dad brings us our pizza and completely ignores my existence. “Do you need anything else?”

Trying to be polite, he replies, “No, thank you. I think we are good.”

It looks like it’s almost painful for her to walk away. But I have no doubt she will still be staring at him from the counter.

Pulling the attention from her, I say, “I think I need to find a hobby.”

“Any ideas?”

I think for a second. “Not sure. How do you think I would do with knitting?”

He laughs, almost choking on the bite of pizza he just took. “Lizzie, I love you, but I don’t think you have the patience for knitting. All that yarn would drive you insane.”

“I thought about gardening, but I’ve never been able to even keep a house plant alive. Do you think Mom would let me get a dog?”

“Maybe. I think she misses Mabel.”

Mabel was the black lab that we had while I was growing up. That dog lived to be damn near twenty years old, and we all loved her like crazy.

“Eh, maybe not. I’m having trouble even taking care of myself. I don’t know how fair that would be for a dog. Speaking of Mom, do you think she will ever stop hating me?” I take a bite of my pizza and remember just how good Magda’s pie is.

Pizza in LA was alright. But all the places around me pushed the gluten-free crust. While I enjoyed the health-conscious effort, I missed eating real pizza.

“Your mom doesn’t hate you. She just…” he trails off.

“She just what?”

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