Page 7 of His Naive Wife

“You okay, honey?” Dad asks as he looks up from his desk. His head tilts to the side and the corners of his mouth draw up into a smile. “I know that look.”

“What look?” I ask. “Who was that? Are you really trying to marry me off? Is that your answer to my not being the perfect doting daughter? Just get rid of me?”

He laughs. “You know that’s not true. You know I’d love nothing more than to keep you here with me forever.” He walks over to me and gently touches my arm. “Come on, sit down. Let’s talk.”

We walk to the seats next to the fireplace, near windows that face the front of the house. Condensation drips down two glasses by the seats. One of them was his. I wonder if he drank out of one, if his lips touched the glass, and what his lips feel like.

What is wrong with me???

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement outside the window. I walk over to get a better look and see the man getting into his car. I position myself to the side, by the curtain, so he can’t see me if he looks my way.

“When you walked in here, that’s the look,” Dad says.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off the man as he drives away.

“I ever tell you how I met your mother?”

“Yes, a hundred times, Dad. Are you really going to bring her up now when you’re trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m not trying to get rid of you. I’m trying to protect you. I’ve been telling you for months now that Dylan is only using you, but you refuse to see it. He doesn’t care about you.”

“He loves me. He doesn’t say it, but I know he does. You don’t like him because he doesn’t come from money.”

“I wouldn’t care if he had no money as long as he made you happy.”

“He does make me happy.”

“Then what were those tears about last night? And the other night? And the night?—”

“Stop it! Every couple has problems sometimes.”

“The problem is he doesn’t love you. He doesn’t care about you. He only cares about himself. And frankly, Emilee, I don’t think you love him either. I think you’re infatuated with him, and you just don’t know any better.”

“And who’s fault is that? I never got to date. I never went to any prom, homecoming, or even a dance. You’ve kept me locked up here my entire life.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want to lose you. I was trying to protect you. I thought you were happy.”

I throw my hands up in frustration. “I was happy, Dad. I’m still happy, but I need to grow up. I’m twenty-two. What happened to Mom was an accident, Dad. You can’t protect me from every accident.”

Dad looks at his phone and smiles.

“I might not be able to protect you from every accident, but I can protect you from making a big mistake with Dylan,” he says. “That look you had when you came in here, you saw him, Alex, didn’t you? And you felt something.”

“Fine, yes, okay, I did.”

“I know you did. The look on your face was the same one your mother had on the day we met.”

I fold my arms over my chest and step closer to him.

“Go on,” I say.

“She told me she loved me from the moment we first met. She said she saw me and felt as if she was whisked away as if it was just the two of us. That nothing else in the world mattered. She said she thought something was wrong with her because her heart was pounding so hard.” He laughs softly, and his eyes well up. “I remember that day so clearly, even though it was thirty years ago. You know what? Everything she said about how she felt? I felt exactly the same way. So that look you had when you came in here, the same look you got when you looked out the window, I know that look.”

I think about Alex’s blue eyes and how everything else fell away when I looked at them.

I sigh and roll my eyes. Even if my dad is right, there’s no way he understands how I feel, and there’s even less chance of me admitting he’s right.

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