I exhale.
“Did you see my roses out front?” My dad beams at Bridger. “Your wife would have loved them.”
His wife? I push aside a wave of panic. This isprobablyan uptick in my dad’s disorientation. A reaction to the introduction of someone he doesn’t recognize. Still. “Dad,” I jump in. “He’s not mar?—”
“Your roses are beautiful,” Bridger says, stepping in. “Happen to be a big fan.”
“A man with excellent taste.” My dad claps him on the shoulder. “Where have you been hiding this one, Loren?”
“I’m here now.” Bridger sends me a smile of reassurance. He’s a natural with my dad, but I should’ve expected this. Apart of me did, I guess. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have let him walk me to the door.
“Sit, sit.” My dad gestures toward the couch. “Both of you.”
“I hate to interrupt,” Noah says, intervening. “But we weren’t quite done, Harlan. You were helping me set up the new tracker app, remember?” He makes a move toward the hall. “Let’s finish up in the sunroom.” He waves for my dad to follow him.
Instead, my dad plops into a chair, launching into a story about me when I was eight years old.
Great.
Bridger takes the chair next to my dad and listens. He laughs in the right places. He doesn’t flinch or rush the punchlines or try to finish his sentences. Meanwhile, I sink onto the couch across from them and observe.
A few years ago, I decided my friends would never have to see this. More a survival mechanism for me than anything else. I can’t stand the look in the eyes of people who knew my parentsbefore.Before the scleroderma took my mom. Before the FTD started stealing my dad.
And at this point, most of my childhood friends have moved away or moved on, so it’s not an issue.
Sayla’s the only current friend who’s even met my dad.
Until tonight.
But now Bridger’s here in the house where I was raised, hearing about the girl I used to be. Before. I fold my arms across my chest and will the lump in my throat to dissolve. That’s when Noah tries again.
“Hey, Harlan. Sunroom?”
“In a minute,” my dad says. “I’m telling Bridger about the time Loren loaded up her Hello Kitty backpack and ran away to—” He stops to scratch his head. “The circus?” He glances at me for confirmation. “Ringling Brothers, wasn’t it?”
“It was the Asheville Aquarium,” I say. “I was obsessed with being a marine biologist.”
“Ah, yes. My little Orca. You wanted to swim with the whales and train dolphins.”
“That’s right,” I say. “Exactly.”
Noah catches my eye, and I see an apology there, which makes me feel even worse than I already do.
“Ready for Noah, Dad?” I prompt.
“We just need to test out that new app,” Noah says, taking his cue. “Then we’ll finish up with some stretching exercises. Sound good?”
“Yep.” My dad rises from his chair. “Work the brain first, then the body.”
“You got it,” Noah says.
“In the meantime, I’ll set the table,” I say, as brightly as I can. “Dinner’s on the way. Bridger ordered smokestack burgers and sweet potato fries from Hickory Grill.”
“Oh! Is he eating with us?”
My heart sinks. Blurting Bridger’s name out like that was so dumb. “Oh. Um. I …”
“There’s only enough for two, tonight,” Bridger says, saving me from the stammer. “Maybe next time?”