Page 73 of Truth or More Truth
After we hang up, I stay in my chair. I’m exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I’m also relieved that Melissa didn’t tell me to go take a hike. I’m not any closer to knowing how this can work out than I was before. Semi-retiring could definitely help, but that doesn’t solve the problem of us living two thousand miles apart.
Part of me wonders why I’m even considering this, but the other part knows Melissa is special. I’ve never felt this comfortable with a woman, apart from Nanette. But the feelings I have for Melissa are different than any I ever had for my ex-wife. There’s this ache deep down inside me because it’s been a week since I was with her, and I just want to see her gorgeous face and giveher a tight hug. And yeah, I want to kiss her and do other things I can’t tell my daughter about. Then I want to fall asleep with us tangled up in each other.Every night.That’s the kicker right there. Usually one night is all I want with a woman. I know that might make me seem like a jerk, but the women always know the deal going in.
Melissa is not a one-night woman. Not for me.
Knock, knock.
“Dad? It’s quiet in there. Are you off the phone?”
I can’t help but smile while I sigh. “You can come in, kitten.”
The door swings open, revealing my daughter with a fist on her hip and the other hand gesturing wildly. “Kitten? Really? You think that’s better than ‘baby’?”
I throw my hands wide. “Then what should I call you?”
“Uh, my name?” She throws her own hands out and rolls her eyes. “It’s Kelli, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“I had forgotten. Thanks for the reminder,” I say dryly.
“Whatever.” She curls up in the oversized green chair she made me put in here for her soon after we moved in. I don’t meet with clients at my house—other than Diego, but he actually stays here with me when he’s in town—so I didn’t initially have another chair in here. However, that didn’t work for my daughter. She wanted pink, but I put my foot down on that, so we settled on kelly green, because she claimed that would remind me of her every time I looked at it. She wasn’t wrong.
“What do you need, cupcake?” I tease her.
She slices her hand through the air.“No.No cupcakes or muffins or kittens or bunnies or other desserts or adorable animals. And I need to know what Melissa said.”
I fold my hands in front of me on my desk. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business.”
Kelli sighs dramatically. “Dad, we’ve already discussed this. It’s totally my business. Now tell me.”
“She’s thinking about it.” That’s really all she needs to know. I’m for sure not telling her about Melissa’s jerkwad of an ex-fiancé.
“See? She didn’t send you packing. What did I tell you?”
“Yeah, but she didn’t say yes.”
“But you’re giving her the chance to decide for herself, and I think she appreciates that. I haven’t met her, obviously, but I don’t think you’d be interested in dating a woman who would let you make decisions for her. You appreciate independence.”
That’s pretty insightful for a thirteen-year-old. “You’re right. About Melissa and in general.” I hadn’t ever thought about it that way, but my daughter is right.
“Of course I am. You and Mom are raising me to be an independent woman, so it only makes sense that’s the type of woman you’d want to be with.”
I point at her. “You’re not an independent woman yet. Don’t go getting any ideas.”
Kelli rolls her eyes. “I know. But I will be. And you don’t make all my decisions for me. You let me make some of them even if you don’t agree with them, as long as they’re not something that’ll get me killed. And then when I screw up, you don’t get mad. Well, maybe you do for a minute or two … or ten, but then you hug me and help me see what I could’ve done better.”
I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. “When did you grow up and figure all that out?”
She shrugs and smirks at me from her chair. “When I turned thirteen.”
“Hmm.” She might also spend too much time around adults—the curse of the only child.
“It’s what you do with your clients, too. I hear you on the phone with them sometimes. You try to talk them out of doing some of the dumb stuff they want to do, but in the end, you let them make their decisions and then help them clean up their mess when it all falls apart. And then you show them how they could’ve made better choices. You’re like their dad.”
I’m not likemydad, that’s for sure. I’m like the dad I wish I’d had. I try to do the opposite of what my dad would’ve done, which has worked out pretty well for us.
“You’re really good at your job,” she continues. “I know a lot of people think you’re a jerk, and believe me, you can be at times. Like to Mrs. Canby.”
She raises an eyebrow at me, and I shrug. The headmistress at Kelli’s private school is … well, she’s a jerk.
