Page 64 of Broken King

“So I’ll see you Monday for lunch?”

“I’ll be there. See you then!”

The call ends, and I’m so happy I can’t wipe the smile from my face. Maybe on Monday we’ll take the next step. Just thinking about kissing Ronan again makes every inch of me feel more alive than I’ve felt in a long time.

“What’s that face for?” my father asks as he walks into the dining room.

“I was just talking to Ronan. We’re having lunch on Monday.”

My father’s eyebrows slowly rise into his forehead as he sits down across the table from me. “Ronan again? I heard he had a tough time recently. How is he doing?”

“He’s doing great,” I answer, sort of lying.

I don’t want to tell my father the absolute truth about Ronan, or he’ll question whether or not I should continue seeing him. Fathers can be so protective, even about their daughters in their mid-twenties.

Pointing at his right arm, he asks, “Is what your mother told me right? Did he have to have his hand amputated because of a car accident?”

I nod, not wanting to talk about this. “He did, but he’s dealing with it really well. It just takes a while to get used to, I’m sure.”

My father presses his lips together, as if he wants to stop himself from saying something, but then he smiles. “It can be very hard for amputees, Kate. They have to get used to a whole new life that includes learning to do everything without the limb they lost. He wanted to be a baseball player, if I remember correctly, didn’t he?”

“He got signed to the minor league team for Washington,” I say proudly. “But you don’t have to worry, Dad. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking he’s in bad shape, but he’s okay, and he’s going to be even better from now on.”

Again, my father’s eyebrows show his surprise. Or maybe it’s disbelief.

“Because you two are back together?”

Before he can start in on some lecture about how only Ronan himself can make a better life for himself and I shouldn’t expect things to go smoothly just because I want them to, I stop him. “Because he has people who love him all around wanting the best for him.”

I stand up because I don’t want to continue this conversation, but my father continues. “Kate, I think it’s great Ronan has so many people rooting for him. Just keep in mind that he’s got to want to be okay for himself. Trust me. I know something about this. I may only be a plastic surgeon, but I see patients every day who think happiness comes from changing things on the outside. That isn’t how things work.” Tapping his chest above his heart, he adds, “Happiness comes from in here.”

My father means well, but he tends to worry too much about me. I know what I’m doing. Ronan needs me now, so I plan to be there for him. He’d do the same for me if I needed it.

“I know, Dad. Remember, you and Mom didn’t raise a fool.”

That makes him smile even as he shakes his head. “Oh, to be young and in love again. Well, I said my piece. Take from it what you will.”

“I love you, Dad. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

I will be. Just as long as Ronan and I get a second chance at what we lost before.

Why we cometo Charley’s is beyond me, but I swear Jessie loves this place. It’s a restaurant that wants more to be a bar, so they installed TVs everywhere throughout the building. As aresult, any time any sport has something going on, every TV in the place is on and showing it while music blares.

Leaning across the table so I can hear her, my friend asks loudly, “What are you thinking of getting?”

I hate yelling what I have to say every time we come here. Maybe we should learn some sign language so we can have an actual conversation over dinner. Or I guess we could sit on our phones and text what we have to say to one another.

Instead of straining my voice, I simply shake my head. I refuse to yell in a restaurant. Even this one.

Jessie sits back and huffs her disgust. I’m not sure what she’s unhappy about, but I can’t imagine it’s this place. She says they have the best spinach dip in the world. That’s a dubious achievement, it seems, but it keeps bringing her back time after time.

I return to looking at the menu, unsure what I want to get. The decibel level in here makes thinking next to impossible. No wonder the only people who seem to come here anymore other than Jessie and me are young college guys. Clearly, they don’t care about their hearing. Come find me in forty years, dude. Then you’ll care.

As I decide between the turkey club and some hamburger with a kind of cheese I’ve never heard of, Jessie pulls my menu down so I’m looking at her. Instead of saying anything, she motions toward the door before standing up.

Okay, I guess we’re leaving. That’s fine with me.

I follow her out to the host desk where she tells them we decided not to stay, and a very busty redhead in a tank top nods and waves goodbye to us in the perkiest fashion I’ve ever seen. Thankful for the break on my ears, I’m happy when we get outside. At least the noise of the street isn’t deafening.

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