“Daddy, I’m sorry!” The tears started again and Teri placed a hand on his thigh.
“Remember, we’ll talk this through in the morning. We need to get her car.” Teri gave a firm nod, and all of a sudden, he hated his own words being turned back on him. “Besides, all I’m going to say is that reality television and all this access to each other on the internet skews a child’s reality.”
Of course she got her dig in. Dylan sighed and turned back around in his seat. He backed the car out, got honked at, let the other car pass, and then kept going. Maybe he’d wake up to this being a somewhat funny, but not really, bad dream.
“Whoa there,” Dylan called out, stopping Chloe as she sneaked toward the garage.
“Dad, I’m gonna be late for class if I don’t leave now.” Chloe came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the kitchen. Funny, since she started college, she’d never voluntarily gotten up this early.
Under normal circumstances, he’d already have a run in before breakfast, but since his jailbird daughter wrecked their evening last night, he’d planned for her attempted escape this morning. He’d have tried exactly the same thing at her age.
“Turn around, take a seat. If you could miss class for a stadium, you can miss class for your mom and me to have a word with you.” Dylan poured coffee into his travel mug.
“Busted!” Chad, his middle child, laughed, walking into the kitchen and grabbing the breakfast sandwich Dylan had made for him.
“There’s a bottle of orange juice in the fridge,” Dylan said absently, reaching for the wallet in his back pocket before Chad could utter his next words.
“Ten-four, Dad. Do you have any money?” Chad asked, his head stuck inside the refrigerator.
“What do you need? I have a five and a ten.” Dylan thumbed through his cash.
“I’ll take the ten,” Cate, his youngest shot out before Chad could respond. She came through like a tornado, dropping her heavy backpack to the floor with a loud thump.
“No, I’ll take the ten. You take the five,” Chad shot back, plucking the ten dollar bill from Dylan’s hand.
“Dad, that’s not fair. Why does he always get the most money?” Cate whined.
“Because I’m older and wiser,” Chad answered for Dylan, never breaking stride as he walked out the back door toward his truck. This had been his new attitude since the beginning of his senior year of high school. “Come on, Cate! We’re gonna be late.”
“Get your breakfast, honey.” Dylan pulled a small plastic bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator and handed it to Cate. She pouted and dragged her backpack on the floor behind her as she came around the center kitchen island.
“No, ma’am! Go change your skirt. No way that skirt falls in dress code,” Dylan said once he got a good look at his daughter. There wasn’t three full years age difference between his oldest and his youngest, but Cate was still his baby. Cate loved fashion and always pulled this stunt.
“Daddy, it’s in dress code. Look.” She slid her hands down the sides of the skirt and her fingertips did reach the hem. She’d pulled out the big guns by using the word Daddy. Cate was his baby and she worked that role very well.
“Then lift your arms in the air to make sure your T-shirt doesn’t show any belly,” Dylan fired back. Her clothes were way too short and tight. He didn’t like it at all.
“Caty, kiss me before you go.” Teri came in the kitchen, completely dressed in full makeup, hair styled, and wearing a trendy Tori Burch design. “I’m going out of town today. You’ll have to Skype me tonight. Where’s Chad?”
“Mom, Dad thinks my dress is too short, but look, it comes to my fingertips.” Teri kissed Cate on the cheek and walked past her toward the backdoor.
“It does come to her fingertips, Dylan.”
“It does, Dad,” Chloe added as if her declaration would help anything.
“You sit over there and wait your turn,” he said to Chloe before turning to Cate. “I’d feel more comfortable if you changed.” The skirt looked short even if it wasn’t. She’d almost reached his six foot height, and he could see entirely too much of her long legs. He really wanted her to change that skirt.
“But, Dad, this matches my bow and my shoes,” Cate reasoned, pointing to her head and sticking out her foot. A honk came from the garage.
“Dylan, she needs to go. They’re going to be late,” Teri said, coming back inside the kitchen.
“Thanks, Mom. Don’t work too hard and try to have some fun!” Cate grabbed the five dollar bill and darted out the door.
“Teri, she needed to change that skirt.” He’d lost the fight, but couldn’t let this go. They were supposed to be a unit, a team. They were to stick together on all things.
“You treat them like you did when they were little. They’re becoming adults,” Teri countered as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
“They aren’t adults. They’re still little,” Dylan said, defeated because she was absolutely right.
“No, we aren’t, Dad,” Chloe added from her seat at the kitchen table.
“Did I tell you to sit over there and be quiet?” he asked, grabbing his travel mug to join her. “You’re the prime example of why age has nothing to do with being an adult.”
“My car’s arriving in fifteen minutes. Can we get on with this?” Teri asked, giving Dylan a very clear we-need-to-move-this-along expression.
“Where are you going this time, Mom?” Chloe asked.
“Chicago, on a business trip.” Teri easily deflected the question. She took her coffee and toast to the kitchen table where Chloe and Dylan now sat. “We need to talk about this problem of you driving back here without letting us know.”
“We actually need to discuss the whole thing. But first, I want to know who organized this,” Dylan asked, pushing a breakfast sandwich in Chloe’s direction.
“Dad, the stadium means something to me and you always say we need to be true to ourselves and fight for what we believe in.” Probably as close to a confession as he was likely to get. So she had been the mastermind behind last night. He’d pretty much come to that conclusion about five thirty this morning. He let it pass that those weren’t his words at all, those were her mother’s. Conviction and passion were fine, as long as they didn’t put any of his children in danger.