“Sorry.” It was a low blow.
“She’s only five years younger than me. Is that acceptable?” He’s not smiling, but I can tell he wants to.
“Yeah. Of course. I was being a shit.”
“Wouldn’t be my daughter if you weren’t.”
It’s my turn to duck my head in embarrassment.
“So what are you going to do next?” Dad asks.
“Dex.”
Dad rears back. “What?”
“Shit. No. I mean…” I bite on my lower lip before getting it over with. “I’m seeing someone too. Ethan Dexter.” Worst segue ever, even if it was probably correct. I really can’t wait to do him again. And again. Shit. I’m blushing now.
Dad stares at me for a long moment, his nostrils slightly pinched, then grunts. “Dexter, eh? I kind of thought you’d fall for a chef or some sort of arty type—“
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, not bothering to clarify that Dex actually is arty.
Dad doesn’t pause. “But he’s a good choice.”
I blink. “Really? You think so?”
“Why not? You like him, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“He’s steady, quiet, honest.” Dad rubs a hand over his face. “Not too thrilled about the idea of you ‘doing’ him, but we’ll just pretend that was never mentioned.”
I bury my head in my hands. “I know. God, I suck at basic conversation with you.”
Dad laughs. “No shit.”
“Can we move along now?” I ask from the safety of my hands.
“Sure.” He falls silent, and I lift my head to find him studying me. “So is he the real deal?”
I’m the one who feels shy now. “Yeah, dad. He really is. So much so that I’m going to claim him.”
I cringe again. I meant it figuratively, but it probably isn’t something my dad wants to hear. I’m better off stuffing my mouth with dumplings and not talking again.
Fortunately Dad just nods. “One less thing.”
I don’t know if he’s right, because the fact is, there are things I need to tell Dex too, and I have no idea how he’s going to take them.
Chapter Thirty-Three
FearTheBeard: Can we Skype?
CherryBomb: On it like a bonnet.
FearTheBeard: Gonna take that as a yes.
CherryBomb: :-*
I confess, I fix my hair and put on some lip gloss and mascara before I Skype with Dex. Okay, I change my top too. No way am I wearing my frumpy, knee-length t-shirt with Princess on the Streets, Ogre in the Sheets across the front. Thank you, Gray, for yet another Fiona-themed birthday gift.
“Why? Because you’re protecting me? That’s bullshit, Ethan.”
A red flush washes over his cheeks. “Look me in the eye and tell me they won’t rip you apart. Tell me, Fi, because I know for a fact they will. And so do you.”
“So maybe they will.” God, my chest hurts. I can’t find my breath. “I’ll get over it.”
But Dex is shaking his head. “I won’t. I promised you normalcy. Or as close as I could make it. I won’t pull you into this mess.”
“So…” I choke back a sob. “So you’d rather dump me?”