What a fucking woman.
18
Duffy
The next night, when I was on my way home from work, I got a text from Connor that saidDon’t cook anything for dinner.
Me:What does that mean?
I still hadn’t recovered from Thursday Night Football, so the idea of more surprises was a little overwhelming.
The game had been a blast, he’d played great football, but Connor’s appearance in the suite afterward had been the best part. He’d made my father the happiest man on the planet—truly—and I was thankful for that, but it was his little bit of playfulness with me that wouldn’t leave my brain.
I haven’t properly said hi to your daughter yet.
God, the man was swoony, even when he was faking it.
Give me some sugar.
He was such a shit and I couldn’t think about it without giggling and kicking my damned feet.
Connor:Your boyfriend’s a thoughtful guy. Are your brothers going to be at the house for dinner or is it just you and your dad?
Me:Just me and my dad.
Connor:Perfect. Have a good night.
Me:What are you up to?
Connor:Just shut up and enjoy it.
Right when I pulled into the driveway, a DoorDash delivery driver was on our porch, dropping off a full meal from Carson’s, our favorite Italian restaurant.
“Did you order this, Duff?” my dad asked with a frown as I got out of my car. “That’s a lot of money to spend on food.”
“This isn’t me,” I said with a laugh, because the bag he was holding was huge. “I think Connor sent this.”
“What?”
“He sent a text about not making dinner,” I said as I followed him inside the house.
And sure enough, when we grabbed the takeout containers, there was a note on top.
Duff—
Take the night off from cooking.
—C
“All right, I’m a big fan of this guy,” my dad said. “Anyone who sends dinner from Carson’s is a good boy.”
“You were a big fan of him already—spare me,” I replied, shaking my head as I looked at the note in my hand.
Iwas a big fan of his notes.
The other day, he sent an absurd little note with the beer bouquet.
Distefano,