Page 23 of Years in the Making

“Yeah?”

“Wanna come to my game tomorrow? Maybe give me a good luck kiss?”

“I’ll think about it.” I smile stupidly back at him. I’m obviously going. Wild horses could not keep me away from that man.

I would have spent the whole day with him if I could have, but my father asked me to come into the raptor center for a bit today. I have no idea why, but I have a feeling it’s to help get things ready for his summer interns. I just hope I can focus on the task at hand with the past hour on repeat in my memory. I try to concentrate on what the afternoon will bring instead of waterfalls and kisses. I know that if my dad sees me in this state, he’ll know something is up. He’s a romantic, and I have no trouble sharing my relationship status with him, but for now, I want to keep this for just me.

John greets me at the entrance when I arrive with a big hug and a gift bag.

“All the way from the streets of Oxford,” he boasts with a big smile.

I tear the tissue paper from the top of the bag and laugh when I see six UK chocolate bars at the bottom. “Why do I getthe feeling that you got these at the duty-free on the way home?”

“Because you know me better than anyone else.” John throws his arm around my shoulder and leads me towards the offices. “Aren’t you going to bust one open?”

I look into the bag and back at him. “I just brushed my teeth so I’ll save one for later.” I am not ready to erase the taste of Teddy quite yet.

“Cornelia!” My dad’s voice booms through the office as we walk in. “Any Flakes in that bag, my dear?” He walks over and peeks in.

John leans into me. “Don’t let him steal any of yours just because he has no self-control.”

I shove the bag behind my back and glare at my dad. “I cannot believe you would dare to steal my chocolate when I know you got some of your own.”

“Hey, I had to share with your chocoholic mother.” Dad pouts.

“Oh, stop it. A middle-aged man pouting is up there with pineapple on pizza. Unacceptable.”

“Hey, I like pineapple on pizza,” John says, sounding hurt.

“I know you do.” I gag.

“I have no problem taking that chocolate back, ya know.” John tries to grab for the bag, but I twirl away before he reaches me.

“Okay, why am I here?” I huff, sitting at one of the empty desks and shoving the chocolate into a drawer that locks. I turn the key and then slip it into my pocket. Chocolate secured, for now at least.

“I’ve taken on a couple of extra interns this summer so…”

“And in your world, how many is a couple?” I interrupt, knowing full well that he doesn’t mean two extras.

“My money is on four,” John says, leaning back in his chair and grinning over at me.

“Spill, Dad.”

He looks between John and me and rolls his eyes. “Four.”

“Typical.” John claps in triumph.

“I just need assistance with the packages, then you’re free to leave.” My dad is incredibly detail-oriented but somehow negligent at the same time. He’d likely have the right number of packages but not all would contain what they should. Between the three of us, all the interns would get what they needed.

“How many in total?”

“Seven,” he says without looking up at me. He complained last year about the four he had under his wing, so I have no idea how he’s going to handle seven.

When I look over at John, he’s making a face that matches the concern I feel. “Are you going to be okay with that many, Doc?”

Dad shrugs. “I’ve got two extra sets of hands this year. Mind you, they are still green.” He seems lost in thought like he hasn’t thought about how he was going to manage. “It’ll be fine.” He waves off our concerns and stands. “Let’s get started.”

“I’ll be right back,” I say, jumping up and heading to the back room where injured birds are kept for observation. I give my hands a thorough wash then stop by the freezer to snag a cricket.

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