Page 40 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

His reply doesn’t come as a surprise to me. Mom must have been scared by my breakdown.

“Okay,” I whisper and stare down at my knees.

“I have always wanted to come see you, but I couldn’t get the day off until today. Aren’t you happy to see me?” He squeezes my hand, and we don’t discuss any further until he pulls up in front of the familiar building of Dan and Dan. I am about to hop out of the car when he says, “Work has been quite hectic, Tessa. I am sorry I am not available as much as you would like.”

I nod because it’s what I am kind of expected to do. I am expected to understand that his work keeps him away from us. I don’t like it, but it is what it is. I interweave our fingers, and he smiles.

“It’s alright, Dad. I get it.”

The pad of his thumb brushes my cheek. “Thanks. But…” he trails off to unfasten his seatbelt and walks around the car to open my door. “I’m working on something. I hate being away from you and your mom.”

“Me too,” I admit as he takes my hand. We walk a few steps away from his car. “I miss those days when you hadn’t been promoted.”

His steps falter. “You wouldn’t have a fancy car if not for the promotion,” he says.

“But I’ll get to see you every morning, and you can always drive me to school. You or Maria or even Mom.” I feel the tears coming and take a big breath. “But it’s cool. I love my car. Thanks.”

“Tessa,” he starts. Facing me, he makes to grab my shoulders but stops to run his hands through his hair. “Sometimes, some things are out of our control, but I promise to make it better soon.”

“How soon?” I whisper.

“Very soon,” he murmurs. He stretches his hand for a handshake. “Doctor.”

I laugh and accept the outstretched hand. “Actress.”

It’s our thing. We swear on our professions to show we are telling the truth. And if we are lying, we will have awful careers. I link our hands and start for the door. We find a booth at the end of the cafe, but none of us bothers with the menu on the table because we know it offhand. I do a double-take when a server walks past our table. I could have sworn it was someone from school.

The baseball cap pulled over his face can’t protect him.

Dad notices and nudges me with his elbow. “See someone you know?”

The boy with blue eyes. The one I shall not name. Is he still mad about my lame threat? “No.”

It has been too long since Dad and I hung out, and it feels awkward. “How was school?”

I think back to Lett’s note and the chilly tone. “Fine. Nothing eventful happened.” He frowns. Sometimes, I think his doctor’s instincts notify him when I lie. “What about you? How was work?”

“Okay. Same old, same old. Consultations, patients who need help. Nothing eventful happened.”

He rubs the back of his hand against his eyes. For the first time, I notice the eye bags, the dark circles, and the wrinkles that have multiplied on his forehead. Maybe I am too hard on him.

He’s alive.

He’s here.

He’s trying his best.

“You are doing a great job, Dad,” I tell him. He throws an arm around my shoulders. I pick up the menu and skim through lines of familiar items typed in black ink. “I’m glad you came today.”

“Me too. I’m happy to be here.”

A brunette waitress sashays to us with a pink apron tied around her waist and a notepad peeking from one of the pockets. I’m disappointed to see her in place of him, but I mask it with a smile when she requests our order. What will he look like with the apron? Was he wearing one? Why didn’t I check? Did he see me? Even if he did, would he have acknowledged me? I doubt it.

Dad lists my favorite items on the menu, and I stifle a laugh. “Burger. Fries. Big coke.” The girl nods. He makes his order and turns to me when she leaves. “Did I get everything right?”

“Yeah…random question, Dad. If you find a letter in one of your patients bags, will you take it?” His brows scrunch, and I quickly add, “You were not snooping or anything, you just saw it by chance, and you were afraid some other doctors would find it. Would you take the letter?”

He slowly nods as if contemplating his answer. “First of all, I shouldn’t be in my patient’s bag without their permission. It’s stealing. But yeah, I guess I will. To protect the patient’s privacy.”

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