Page 51 of Love in Pieces

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It takes every bitof willpower to knock on my father's office door. Normally, before all hell broke loose, I would be taking a gamble on him being here past noon on a Friday. Now, I have almost zero doubt he’s in his office, and as much as I hope he won't be here, I need him to be here.

I force my heart to slow when his voice sounds through the door. “Come in,” he says. I turn the knob, and the door opens quietly. The shock is apparent on his face. I hadn’t told him I was coming as I didn’t want to start any drama before I asked him for what I needed. “Wow. My son does exist. I was starting to wonder if I had made the whole thing up.” He looks back to his computer, not bothering to greet me properly.

“Hello to you, too,” I quip. I take a seat in one of the black chairs in front of his desk, trying to keep my composure and pretend I’m not as bothered as I truly feel on the inside. “I need a favor.”

“A favor?” He laughs, sitting back in his large leather chair. “You want a favor after ignoring me for this long?” He shakes his head and straightens himself as if trying to present larger than me. He’s right. I have been ignoring him. He’s tried both texting and calling a few times since our last argument, but I’ve let all the calls go to voicemail or ignored the texts.

I straighten up as well, hoping to at least meet his power position. I clench my fists in my lap to hide my simmering anger. “Look, I’m not here to cause a scene. I was just hoping I could borrow two of your Twins season tickets.” I pull out my wallet and lay whatever cash I have on his desk, knowing full well that the tickets he holds cost almost half my portion in rent. “I’ll pay you the rest of it back later. But I need the next home game you’ve got.” I wait, hoping being forward will give me the upper hand.

He sighs, looks to his lap, then back at me. “Fine. There’s a home game next week. I’ll email you the tickets.”

I calm a little at his answer. “Thank you.” I get up to leave but he speaks when I reach the door.

“Dal?” he starts. “You know I never meant to hurt anyone with this relationship. It progressed quickly and by the time I realized, it was too late—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Dad. You made your choice.” I close the door quickly behind me, not giving him a chance at a rebuttal. Now let’s hope he still comes through with his promise of those tickets.

***

When I return, I keepthe potential birthday present to myself as I don’t want to get her hopes up. Instead, I ask if there’s anything fun we can do tonight for her birthday.

“Honestly, I’d rather stay home. Maybe go to the liquor store now that I can buy my own?” She perks up a little with her question.

I chuckle, realizing that this is her twenty-first birthday. “You don’t want to go out to the bars?” I ask, a little surprised she’s choosing the low-key side of things. Add that to the ever-growing list of things I like about her.

“Nah. I’m not really a bar scene kind of girl. Too many people. Meredith likes to drag me out to them, and I like her too much to deny her the fun.”

“I hear you on that.”

“Says the bartender.” We both laugh.

A heavy plastic bag hangs on Abby's arm when we return from the liquor store with Rose in tow. That was Abby’s idea. I hadn’t realized she liked her so much. “You really didn’t have to pay for everything,” she says when she pushes the door open.

“I wanted to. It’s a birthday gift.”

Logan, who’s been scrolling on his phone, perks up at the sound of the glass bottles hitting the countertop. “Hey, Rose. What’s the occasion?” He gives her a short hug before entering the kitchen. He picks up the bottle closest to him. “Damn, three bottles of Kinky and Jack Daniels. Someone’s getting wasted.”

“It’s Abby’s twenty-first birthday, so we went on a little shopping spree.”

“Is four o'clock too early to start drinking?” Logan asks, looking at the clock on the stove.

“Never too early,” Abby chimes in. She opens the cupboard and pulls out three shot glasses. She eyes me. “I’m assuming not, but you want one?”

“Oh, no. That’s all you three. Someone’s got to babysit,” I say, holding my hands up in defense. Rose glances at me from her spot at the counter. No way am I jumping back on the drinking bandwagon.

Logan eyes me. He knows why I’m so pointed about remaining sober. Abby pours three shots of the blue Kinky and passes them out. “To the birthday girl,” he cheers, holding his shot glass up. “Bottoms up!”

All together, they down their shots and the night moves swiftly. All three of them are buzzed by six when Rose decides they need to order pizza. As the resident babysitter, I make sure they eat and don’t drink too fast while still allowing them to enjoy themselves. I ensure the puke buckets are in place by the beds, including mine since I fully expect Abby to sleep in there again. Not that I’m complaining, but the sexual tension between us at night is getting harder to ignore. It’s gone past simply holding hands and spooning. I struggle to keep myself in check most of the time. If she notices, which I’m sure she does, she hasn’t said anything.

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