Page 142 of The Odds of Happily Ever After
My nape grew tight with discomfort because I had never spoken to my father about a woman before. Back when we lived together, he was at work more often than not, and what few conversations we had revolved about my classes and his job. Even though I’d been staying with him for over a week, it still felt awkward to discuss Luna with him.
“Who would have thought, right?” I murmured.
He nodded repeatedly. “It is an answered prayer for a parent to know his child has found love.”
“So you still believe in it after Ma?” I’d told myself not to bring her up, but I couldn’t help asking.
My father reared back and frowned at me. “Of course. I never stopped.”
Never stopped believing in love? Or loving my mother?
“Believing in love,” he clarified, as though he knew what I was wondering about. “Yasmin . . . I will always love her for giving birth to you and the years we shared. But I stopped being in love with her long before I stopped smoking.”
“How can you believe in love when you know it doesn’t always last?”
He reached for his beer and took a drink. “Not all love is meant to last a lifetime. It takes work and commitment. Your mother and I, we put in both, but not at the same time. We made our choices, but we chose differently from one another. Our love ending doesn’t mean I won’t find it elsewhere—or that you won’t find it at all.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. It persisted, so I chased it down with alcohol. “Does it stop feeling so . . .”
“Much?”
Perfect. “Yes.”
“Sim. It ebbs and rises. It is exciting until it’s not, and that’s when you need to put in the effort to keep it alive.”
The match continued then, but I barely took in the action as I mulled over his words. When the game ended, my father raised his bottle to me in celebration of our team’s win. Turning off the television, he poured another drink. “So. Tell me about her.”
“Her name is Luna.” A thought struck me. “Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something?”
“Of course. Anything.”
With summer infull swing, the Charleston airport thrummed with tourists wanting a change of scenery and locals escaping the rush. I resisted the urge to shove my way past a group of teens taking their time walking out of the customs gate.
I was checking that I still had the parking ticket in my shirt pocket when I heard a familiar voice call out, “Gabe!”
Glancing to my left, I peered past the throng and found Luna grinning at me in the shirt I’d given her. My heart raced, and I barreled toward her, barely seeing the bodies in my way.
As soon as I halted in front of her, she said, “You know, you should really focus on walking without bumping into people.”
The familiar words had me chuckling. “What people? I only saw you.”
Her eyes disappeared into crescents as she laughed. “Very smooth, Professor. Who knew you had it in you?”
“Trust me, I’ve been asking myself the same question.” Every time, the answer remained the same:Luna. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have work?”
“I put in overtime the past few days so I could take today off. I already missed your flight last time. I couldn’t miss it again.”
I wanted to embrace her—to pull her to me and kiss her right in the middle of the arrival hall. But I hesitated, unsure whether she would welcome the public display.
She made the decision for me, stepping forward and looping her arms around my neck. Her head fit perfectly in the crook of my shoulder as I wrapped my arms around her waist. I marveled at what I ever did to deserve my family seeing me off from one place only to arrive home and be welcomed by my heart.
“Thank you for picking me up,” I said, hugging her tighter.
“Technically, you’re the one driving.”
“Hm. Do you want me to teach you?”
She leaned back to look at me. “Now?”
