Page 26 of Never Been Gargoyled
He headed for the door, but paused and looked back at me. “Ten minutes?”
“Sounds good.”
After he left, I hurried upstairs to the master bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. My reflection in the mirror was exactly as messy as I'd expected. Hair escaping everywhere, dirt smudging my cheeks, clothes rumpled from crawling around in flower beds.
But my eyes were bright. Happy. When had I ever looked this content?
I showered fast, braided my hair back, dressed in clean clothing, and was heading downstairs when my phone rang.
Dad.
I stared at the screen for a moment, then sighed and answered. “Hi, Dad.”
“Dazy. How's the house?”
“It's wonderful. Lots of work, but I love it here already.”
“Mmm.” He didn't sound convinced. “Listen, I've been thinking about what Helga left you. That property's got to be worth decent money. You could sell it, use the cash to get yourself set up somewhere more reasonable.”
My good mood deflated. “I don't want to sell it.”
“Be realistic, honey. You can't seriously want to live in that old place all by yourself. It's probably falling apart.”
“It's not.” I walked into the kitchen, gripping the phone tighter. “And I'm not all by myself.”
“What do you mean? You said you didn't know anyone there.”
“I’ve met all sorts of people.” Did the orc baker count? “I’ve got a really friendly neighbor.” That was Feydin, right?
“Well, that's something, I guess. But still, Dazy, you have to think practically. You're not cut out for managing a big estate. You barely kept those plants you had in your room alive.”
Heat flashed through me. “That was years ago, Dad. I was a kid then. I’ve worked at a greenhouse for years. I know plants. They no longer die under my care.”
“Working for someone else is different from being responsible for everything yourself. And what about during the winter? Do you have any idea what it costs to heat a place that size?”
“Dad—”
“I just want you to consider your options before you get in too deep. There's no shame in admitting you bit off more than you can chew.”
The front door opened and closed. Feydin was back.
“I have to go,” I said. “I'm making lunch.”
“Think about what I said, okay? I worry about you.”
“I will.”
“Love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you too, Dad.” My lips twisting, I hung up and dropped the phone on the counter with a clatter. Why did talking to Dad always make me feel like a failure?
“Everything alright?” Feydin stood in the doorway, his damp hair suggesting he'd showered as well. He looked clean and fresh. Yummy in snug jeans and a dark t-shirt outlining his muscles.
And concerned.
“It’s okay.” I forced a smile. “It was my dad. He’s…dad-like.”
Feydin's eyes narrowed. “What did he say?”
