Page 76 of Clean Sweep
Ah, she’d found my weak spot. While I had confidence that I would ask Leslie out on an official date, the problem was knowingwhento do it. I swallowed, simultaneous mental paths popping up in my mind. Had to be careful here.
If I said the wrong thing . . .
“Now is not the time,” I said with a finger jabbing her way. “With her boys here, New Years in a few days, and a wedding around the corner, the last thing she needs is a date from me.”
Celeste folded her arms across her chest. “Fine, I’ll agree with that, but tell me when you’re going to ask her out.”
“What is this?” I cried. “Are you my life coach?”
She blew a raspberry. “You totally couldn’t afford me. Mom is a life coach and makes like ten thousand dollars a month. I’ve got it in my blood. Anyway, you have a goal, you have to set a date.” She had the gall to look annoyed. “Remember? We went through this with my college applications.”
I sent her a sour glare. She beamed. Of course she’d use my lecture on goal setting against me now. Appropriately too, which only made it that much more galling. The fact that I didn’twant to set a date for asking Leslie on a date was telling, too.
Why did I skirt it?
I frowned and wrestled over the question for several long moments. Celeste let it ride, but her eyes never left my profile. She watched me squirm my way into the truth.
And the truth wasn’t pretty.
“I don’t want to set that definite of a goal yet,” I finally admitted with a hard breath. “Because . . . because I’m not really sure I’m ready for this.”
“For a girlfriend?”
“For Leslie Hill.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing.”
“So . . . this doesn’t make any sense.”
No, I wanted to say,I’m not ready to crash my bachelor-style life into the mountain that is Leslie Hill and never recover myself.
Life with Leslie was something I wouldn’t recover from soon. Sure, the metaphorical stone of me liking her was already rolling down the hill—and gaining momentum. Kissing her on Christmas had drawn a line in the sand from which there was no recovery.
Yet, on the other side, an equally frightening quietness and loneliness awaited.
“I want to make sure that I’m not dating Leslie because I don’t want to be alone,” I finally admitted. I did a quick glance at her eyes, back to the road, then back to her again. The headlights cut a beam right in front of the truck, illuminating an empty canyon.
Celeste’s face wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
I sighed. How honest should I be? Celeste was too intelligent to pander with, but I also didn’t want to unintentionally give her things to worry about.
She was still a kid.
“You’re leaving to go to college soon and that is great. It’s absolutely what you should be doing and I’m 100% supportive.” I held out a hand to drive the point home. “You’re on the right path. But it will mean a very quiet house and . . . I’m not looking forward to missing you.”
She melted a little. “I know. I’m worried about you, too.”
“What?”
She shrugged and looked entirely too much like me.
“Dad, you’re a mess sometimes. Yeah, you pulled your life together and raised me without Mom being around all that much in the beginning, and then you did the majority of caring for me. You clean houses like a pro, you whip up desserts like it’s your hobby—which, okay, it is your hobby—but that’s with me there. I’m worried that when I’m gone, you’ll struggle.”
Well, damn if she didn’t constantly surprise me.
“That’s quite mature of you.”
