Page 97 of Single Chance

“I was finishing the social media calendar,” I said.

The one that didn’t need to be done for another three weeks, but I didn’t admit that. Sam might get the impression I was avoiding coming home, which, of course I was, but it had nothing to do with her. Normally she spent all her time in her basement hideaway, popping up for fifteen minutes tops when dinner was ready. Had I known my daughter had surfaced and was preparing dinner, I wouldn’t have worked so late. It was Rowan’s absence I’d been hiding from.

“It smells amazing,” I told her. “What made you decide to go to all this effort?”

She served herself, sat back down, and scooped a bite on her fork. “What happened between you and Rowan?”

I’d been blowing on my food to cool it, but I stopped. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Dad. I’m fourteen. Stop treating me like I’m four.”

Did I treat her like she was four? Hell, I didn’t mean to. Maybe I did? She was still my little girl. Would always be my little girl.

“Rowan always planned to find her own place,” I said. The truth. Well, at least it’d started out that way.

“She didn’t move to her own place.”

So Sam had been in touch with Rowan at some point. I was heartened to learn that, but at the same time, it hit hard that I was the outsider now.

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask my daughter where Rowan had moved. I bit down on it.

When Sam finished a mouthful of food, she scowled. “I’m not stupid. You spent almost every evening with her since she moved in. It was super obvious you two were involved. She moved out suddenly, and you’ve been sad ever since.”

Well, then. My daughter picked up on a hell of a lot more from the basement than I’d ever guessed. Apparently I was the stupid one.

“I’m sorry if I treat you like a little kid,” I said, meaning it. “I don’t have any experience being a dad of a teenage girl. I didn’t understand teenage girls when I was a teenager myself, and it hasn’t gotten any easier.” I tried to make the comment light, but it fell flat.

“What did you do to make her mad?”

“Your age aside, my relationship with Rowan is private, Sam.”

“This is why we aren’t close, Dad. We can’t talk about anything except my stupid grades and whether I’ve spoken to Lacey. I haven’t, by the way, and I’m not going to. She’s mean and only cares about herself.”

“I don’t know Lacey well, but I think you’re right.”

“I don’t care about her anyway.”

We both stuck another bite of lasagna in our mouths. I welcomed the minibreak so I could try to figure out how to navigate this situation.

“You like Rowan, don’t you?” I asked.

Sam nodded, then swallowed. “I miss her.” She tilted her head and studied me. “You love her, don’t you?”

I was about to scoop up another bite, but my fork froze. My mouth went dry, and a knot tightened in my gut. “What makes you say that?”

“I can just tell by the way you are around her. Like, you’re lighter somehow. Definitely happier.”

This was not a comfortable topic, but I’d just been accused of treating her like a child. What I really wanted to do was divert, change the subject. She might be right that I’d been treating her like a child. I suspected she’d see right through me if I refused to answer. As vulnerable as it made me feel, I decided to try being open.

I tapped my fork on my plate as I considered my response. “I care about Rowan,” I finally said. “Obviously I find her attractive or we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Please don’t tell me gross details,” she pleaded, making me grin briefly.

“There’s a lot to like about Rowan. She’s smart, funny, caring, compassionate…” I stopped myself from listing more, even as several other of her good traits came to mind. “She’s carrying my child, and that connects us in a lifelong way. But love?” I set my fork on the table, my mind going eight hundred miles per hour. I shook my head, as if I could stave my feelings off, even as the very real fear seeped in that it was too late. “I don’t know. I’ve avoided falling in love since your mom.”

“I’ve seen you and Rowan together a lot,” Sam said. “I’ve seen how you are with her. How often you smile. The way you look at her. The way you listen to everything she says and consider it. How you always look out for her, make sure she’s taken care of.” She nodded matter-of-factly. “And did I mention the way you look at her?”

“You did.”

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