Page 78 of Every Promise Broken

“Doing alright,” he replies, reaching for his water bottle. “Paul and I are still trying to get out at least a couple times a day to take Callie out for a walk, but it’s been so damn cold lately.”

“What are you watching?” I ask, gesturing toward the television.

“I’m not sure. I was napping before you got here, so whatever was on cable.”

We both do our best to pretend we’re enthralled in whatever movie is playing so we don’t have to endure small talk like we’re a couple of strangers. The truth is, I came here because I’m stalling. I came to visit my dad so I could buy myself some time.

Last night as I was getting home from work, I got another text from Conrad. It’s not the first text he’s sent me in the thirteen days since I moved back into my own place, but it was the first text of him asking me anything.

I haven’t had the strength to reply to any of them, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to them. The first couple of days, I dreaded them. They hurt to read, and I was confused on why he was sending them. Conrad isn’t a texter. He hates technology in general. But after about day three, I realized theping of the notification brought me a level of comfort I didn’t expect. Reading his messages made me feel closer to him; it made me feel at peace.

It’s why last night’s text when I got home from work was so jarring. Without even looking at my phone, I can recite the message word for word, because I re-read it about twenty-seven times between then and this morning.

Conrad: I was hoping I could ask you to come by the ranch tomorrow evening, say around 4pm. I’d really love to finally talk with you about some things face to face, if you’re ready for that.

Out of twenty-four messages sent, that was the first one I responded to. A simple, ‘okay,’ was all I could give, and it’s felt like my stomach has been clear in my throat ever since. I sent that one-letter response last night, and I’ve been on edge ever since. It’s why I woke up this morning before six a.m. and started cleaning my house. I can’t remember the last time I willingly got out of bed on a Saturday that early, but I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t sit still.

As if my father can read my mind, he glances over at me and asks, “What ever happened to that one man you were dating? What was his name? Ralph?”

“Reggie,” I correct. “We broke up, actually.”

“Oh, how come?”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out a simple answer to that question. In the end, I offer him the most painfully honest answer. “Because Dad, I’m still in love with Conrad.”

His hands are clasped together on his lap, and he nods slowly like he doesn’t quite know what to say. “Are you two…” He gestures in front of him. “Back together?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Well, does he know how you feel?”

“Probably not.”

It feels so strange discussing this with my father. While he ended up coming around to my relationship with Conrad—with a man—it was never something we openly and willingly discussed. Hell, I barely even spoke to him about the divorce. We simply don’t have that type of relationship.

“You should tell him,” he replies, like his suggestion is the easiest thing.

I snort. “It’s not that simple, Dad.”

Reaching for the remote, he turns down the volume on the TV, a moment of awkward silence passing between us before he glances over at me. “I don’t know if you ever knew this, but your mother and I separated once.”

“You did?” My eyes widen before I can stop myself. “When?”

He nods once. “It was when you were about a year old. The clinic wasn’t doing great; therefore, we were struggling with money, and dealing with that while also learning how to be new parents took its toll on us as a couple. We had forgotten how to appreciate one another; we’d forgotten what made us fall in love.”

“So, what happened?”

“Your mother went to stay with your grandparents for about six months. I would see you on the weekends when I wasn’t working. Eventually, I pulled my head out of my ass and realized I didn’t want to continue walking through life without the woman I love the most. It wasn’t easy, but eventually, she moved back home with you.”

“Wow,” I breathe out. “I had no idea.”

“Conrad’s a good man,” my dad muses, almost more to himself than me.

“Yes, he sure is.”

Clearing his throat, he looks over at me again. “You should tell him how you feel, son. I know I haven’t been the best fatherto you, and for that, I am sorry, but you deserve to be happy. I’ve never seen you happier than when you were married to Conrad.”

Emotion clutches my throat, making it hard to breathe. This feels so off base for what my father and I typically talk about when I come here, yet it’s also exactly the type of thing I needed to hear today. Like the universe is looking out for me, giving me a sign that maybe it’s okay if I go over there, after all.

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