Page 79 of The Accidental Text

She lifts one shoulder and lets it drop. “I read about it somewhere.”

We smile at each other, both knowing that Hannah is a lot more emotional than she lets on. I love that we can have full conversations with just a smile.

“So what are you going to do with this information?”

I reach up and tug on my necklace. “I think I’ll just wait.”

“Wait?”

“Maybe I’m just tired today. Maybe I’ll feel different tomorrow.”

“You aren’t going all KFC on me again, are you?”

“No,” I protest. “At least … I don’t think I am.”

“Well, don’t wait too long.”

“I know, I know.”

After dinner, I walk down to my dad’s house and use my key to let myself in through the front door. I thought I’d pop over and see how he’s doing. His announcement about where the money from Drives for Dreams was going affected me throughout the day. And if I felt a bit drained from it, I know he did too.

There’s not a lot of light in the house as I enter, but I can see a dim one coming from the living room, and hear soft music playing. So I walk toward it, not calling for my dad in case he’s asleep on the couch in front of the television. I don’t want to scare him. I’ve done that before.

I hear low, mumbling chatter as I approach, the soft music getting more distinct. I can make out my dad’s voice for sure. So maybe not asleep. Is he on the phone? But then I hear June’s distinct laugh. I could pick it out from any crowd. It’s higher pitched, with notes of warmth. This time, though, there’s a definite hint of flirtation. I stop in my tracks, right at the entrance to the living room.

The lights are dimmed, the sounds of Michael Bublé crooning in the background. My dad and June, ever so close on the couch.

I should back out. I should just go as softly as I can, and then I can go home and pretend I never saw this … this intimacy. This perfect picture of two people who are clearly into each other. Which would not be a big deal if one of them wasn’t my recently widowed father. Well, it’s been five months. Is that considered recent?

I start to leave but end up turning more swiftly than I intended, and the keys I’d tucked in my pocket fall out and hit the floor with a loud clank.

“Hello?” I hear my dad say.

The light in the room gets brighter—I’d forgotten that he’d recently converted the house to a smart home and all the lighting and everything was now run by remote control.

“Maggie?” he says, when I finally stand up and turn around so he can see me. I’d briefly thought I could grab my keys and just crawl away.

“Dad,” I say. Then I turn my head. “June.”

“Hello, my dear,” June says. She’s calm and has a serene smile on her face as she sits back on the couch, a wineglass in her hand.

My dad, on the other hand, looks as if he’s a teenager that’sjust been caught doing naughty things on the couch with his girlfriend.

My, how the tables have turned. I believe my dad caught Devon doing some naughty things with a girl on this very couch he’s been snuggling up to June on.

Actually, no. My parents sold that couch not long after. Smart move.

“What are you doing here?” my dad asks, his face vacillating between shock and confusion.

He might be mirroring my facial expressions. But, in truth, I’m not as shocked as I should be. While this is disturbing for sure, it’s not wholly unexpected. I’ve seen the texts. I know there’s something more going on here than my dad is letting on.

“I just stopped by to say hi. I was eating dinner at Hannah’s.”

“Right,” my dad says. “Well, come have a seat.” He gestures toward the sofa.

“Yes,” June says. “Come and sit.”

I look at June and then at my dad. He’s got a sort of sheepish grin on his face. Like he can’t decide how he should be reacting. There’s a lot of nostril flaring going on.

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