Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“What if I just came on and off? When I could get away. Do you think Mom would be satisfied with that?”
“I hope so.” Dad gives me his signature stare. It’s like getting ambushed by an overactive cat who has camouflaged themselves with both the wall and the carpet, even if the cat is white, the carpet is neon green, and the wallpaper is sixties brown. I’ve had this happen once before, and it was as alarming as it sounds.
“Would you?” I asked him.
“I hope so,” he repeated.
“Dad, that’s not an answer.”
Dad has already finished his breakfast. The man has a stomach of steel. He can eat even the worst of the undercooked eggs and bacon. He’ll leave a huge tip, too, and next time, he’ll still ask me to come here when we meet for a family breakfast.
“I know we’ve taught you to work hard, but I hope it’s not too hard. I want you to have a life, too, Mont. You’re my son, and I want you to be happy.”
“I’m working on that.”
Shit. That’s very obvious code for I’ve found someone, but I don’t want you to know about them yet. Dad knows me too well, though, and his bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows shoot up into his bushy salt-and-pepper hairline. It doesn’t matter what haircut the man has or how much styling product he uses. His hair is always thick and untamable. I inherited my mom’s finer, obedient hair and the widow’s peak she’s constantly bemoaning, although I think it makes her look beautiful and dignified.
“Have you met someone?”
“Dad.” I push congealed eggs around my plate. I’m not sure how many kids are screaming at full volume in here, but I think it’s currently more than ten. Unfortunately, we’re at one of the smallest tables, so we can hear each other well. As it is, our knees are practically pressing together on the underside of the table. “I don’t want to answer that. Yet.”
“Ahh.”
“Please don’t tell Mom. It just makes this more complicated because I can’t jet out of here for months at a time. Say there was someone. It would hurt her feelings, and she wouldn’t understand. She would think she’s getting left behind, and I’m making excuses and trying to do it the nice way.”
“Ouch.”
“Do not tell anyone. I’ll come clean when the time is right. We’re waiting until we’ve been dating for a month. We just want to have this as our time. Is that understandable?”
Dad nods, and thankfully, he doesn’t look hurt or betrayed. “Is she nice?”
“She’s nice. She’s very nice. She’s smart, she’s a hard worker, and she’s got great ideas. She’s also caring, sweet, friendly, magnetic, and pretty much all-around wonderful.”
“You work together?”
Fuck. Shit, shit, shit, fuck. “Who said that?”
“It’s alright, son. You’re an adult. You know what you’re doing. You’re a good man with a kind heart, and you would never do anything unprofessional. When we meet someone special, it can’t be helped where we meet them. I trust that you know what you’re doing.”
I sit back, a little stunned. My parents would always stick up for me and believe the best in me. They’ve believed in me in every other way my whole life. But this is a vote of confidence that is so ironclad and unshakable that it makes my eyes burn a little. My stomach, too. I don’t think it’s from bad bacon, either. People vastly underestimate just how much parental approval means. I don’t seek it, and contrary to the dating thing, I don’t live my life trying to obtain it by any and all means. Finding out that my dad respects me as a fellow human being and on a level of equals and friends as well as being his son? I knew it before, but it means a lot to hear it so casually stated yet so unshakable.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll come to Scotland. I’ll find a way. Even if it’s just for a few days here and there, I want to be a part of building the dream house for Mom. For you, too. It’s a family thing. I think your idea of building it half and half—half for the public and half for you both—is a great idea. History should be preserved, and it should be shared. It’s inspiring.” I push my plate away to the side of the small table. “Do you have any pictures?”
Another scream and a tinny wail adds to the noise in the background, but Dad just grins. “We could find a quieter place, but this one is comfortable, and there’s something to be said for the familiar.”
“I know a great crab shack if you’re ever in the mood for seafood-infused breakfast.”
Dad pulls out his phone and scrolls to his camera roll. I can already see the blurry details of the screenshots he’s saved. He’s serious, really serious about this then. This is the one. This is his castle. His and my mom’s, and no matter what it takes, I’m going to find a way to be there to make it special for them.