Page 44 of You Cake My Breath Away

I sweep some loose hair into a bun. “Thanks.”

His gaze falls to my outfit, and surprisingly his mouth doesn’t turn into a frown.

“You look nice,” he says. “Cool rain boots.”

I puff out my cheeks, unsure how to respond to this new version of my dad. He never comments on my outfits with actual words but with facial cues.

“Thanks.” I point to his head. “Your haircut looks nice.”

The level of awkwardness is taut like a guitar string, one strum away from exploding off the fret and curling into itself. Sick of tiptoeing around the men in my life’s feelings, I go right for the jugular.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating?”

He sighs and waves me into the kitchen. Pulling out a stool at the island, he pats on it and tells me to sit. He silently puts a kettle on the stove and pulls out our cups and tea bags. Mom used to use “teatime” as an excuse to weasel her way into learning all the new dramas of teenagers in high school. As I was on the outside of the popular clique, I rarely had any tidbits of information for her, but she filled in the silence with questions that made me feel seen.

I’ve never seen Dad use the kettle, or drink tea, for that matter. I guess Gloria’s making a bigger impression than I expected.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.” His attention is on the kettle, and the way his shoulders slump makes me realize how hard this is for him too. “You were still grieving, and I’d finally started dating and reconnected with Gloria. It felt a little like rubbing it in your face, and I didn’t want to add to your pain.”

Understanding settles over me, right along with guilt that my father hid his happiness for so long because he was worried about me. “I was a wreck when Jessie passed. I still am.”

The kettle whistles, and Dad pours the hot tea into a mug and squeezes a lemon inside it. Just like Mom did.

“I’m sorry you felt you had to hide it, and I’m even sorrier for how I acted when I met Gloria. She seems really nice.”

“She’s amazing.” We both take a sip of tea, letting the warm liquid seep into our bones. “But I’ll always love your mom, sweetheart.”

I sigh. “I know.”

“And I’ll always love you, too. I know I’ve done a horrible job of showing you that, but I’m trying to get better. There’s no excuse for it, but I didn’t know how to love you when I was hurting so bad. I was scared I’d mess things up and hurt you too. And when you lost Jessie, we were both still in that place of hurt and couldn’t see past it.”

I prepare for the tension to inch back into my muscles, but it doesn’t. Who figured talking about these things would actually help? I remind myself to reach out to my therapist for an appointment to hash out everything that’s transpired this week.

“Gloria came into my life at my lowest and showed me what I was giving up by keeping everyone at arm’s length.” He chuckles, a small smile tugging at his cheek. “She chastised me the other day for how unfair I was being to you with trying your new recipes.”

“I’m glad you found each other.” I slide my finger around the mug rim, trying to decide if I want to bring up whatever is going on between me and Archer.

“Me, too,” Dad says after a moment. “She’s great.”

The worry about how this conversation with my dad would go seeps away from my chest. My lungs expand, pressing against my ribcage as I inhale what feels like the deepest breath, and when I exhale, relief pours into my veins, spreading out to all my tense muscles.

“How did you meet?” I ask.

“We went to college together.” He smiles, pours himself another cup of tea. “She was the girlfriend of the quarterback, and I was just the weird band kid she sat beside during the pep rallies. She was nice, but I knew I had no chance up against the school’s saving grace.”

I laugh. “I bet that quarterback flunked out of college because he couldn’t stop binge drinking at the frat parties.”

He chuckles. “No, he’s actually pretty successful now. But they weren’t meant to be long term. God had other plans in store for all of us.”

“That’s lovely, Dad.” And it is. I like to think God has another plan for my life through this bakery Jessie set up for me, that he knew he’d be taking Jessie and wanted me to have something that would always be an extension of him.

“What about you, pumpkin?” he asks, pinning me with sympathetic eyes.

My head throbs with the words threatening to burst forth. Dad would understand the dilemma I’m in with my feelings for Archer. He has firsthand experience moving on after losing the love of your life. But my mom passed years ago, and it’s been less than two years since Jessie died. That’s too soon to be feeling like this for someone else, right? The fear of his disappointment keeps my lips zipped shut.

“Uh…” I struggle to come up with something to reply. This thing with Archer is confusing to me, and I’m not sure I’d even be able to explain it to him when I don’t have a good grasp on what’s happening yet. Figuring a half-truth is better than a lie, I say, “I’m just focused on baking right now.”

His shoulders slump, and his brows furrow, making the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes more prominent. “I know it’s not easy to think about dating again.”

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