d man, huh?” he said with a hint of a smile as he pulled out his chair and took a seat.
That time she turned her unamused gaze to his. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your graduation,” he said.
“I didn’t expect you to,” she returned practically before he’d finished speaking.
“You got the flowers?”
Nodding once, she muttered. “Yep.”
Reaching into his sharp jacket, he extracted a white envelope and slid it across the table. “I meant to give you this with it, but like I said, I couldn’t make it.”
Tentatively reaching for it, feeling its thickness as she dragged it across the beaten tabletop, she felt herself thawing—and immediately hated herself for being so cheap.
“Thanks,” she said, folding her hands protectively over the envelope.
Not wanting to leave it out in plain sight, she stuffed it into her purse while her father leaned back and looked around for the waitress.
“There’s a little extra in there,” he added. “I know your mom’s been giving you a hard time lately. She said you’re waiting tables.”
“Yeah, well, I have expenses now.”
He nodded, absently grabbing at the menu. “Well, like I said. Just be smart with it, huh? Don’t blow it all on shoes or some fucking kid you’re dating.”
At the mention of her love life, she shifted, horrible memories of his involvement in that area of her life skating across her mind.
“You mean Brian?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t read into her uneasiness.
“Whoever. Doesn’t matter,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “I told you I won’t get involved, you do what you want. Just be smart with the money. You’re a woman now, you’re gonna need something of your own.”
“Well, thank you.”
The waitress approached, notepad in hand, smile on her weathered face.
“You ordering food?” her father asked, glancing at her.
Faltering slightly, she said, “Well, I assumed? You asked me to lunch…”
“I think just some… fior di latte to share,” he said.
Glancing at Willow, she said, “Nothing for you?”
Willow closed the menu and sat back. “I guess not.”
“You order what you want,” he said. “I just can’t stay too long.”
“I’m shocked,” she stated, irritation bubbling up again. “Nothing else,” she told the waitress.
The waitress flashed her father a smile as if to say, “kids, right?” and made her way back to the kitchen.
Willow checked the time on her phone, wondering how much longer he planned to play at fatherhood that day.
“Anyway,” her father began, dropping a napkin in his lap. “I had another reason for calling you here today.”
Of course he did. Willow waited, arms crossed, a knowing look on her face.
“I have a friend, a lady friend. She, uh, does that whole art thing,” he said, gesturing with his hands, his expression somewhat dismissive. “You know I’m not into all that, but I remembered you were.”