“Did I really have all the ingredients?”
Dan turned to stare at her, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline. When he realized she was serious, a huge laugh erupted from him. He watched her earnest smile turn into a frowning pout and it made him laugh even harder.
“A simple ‘no’ would do,” she mumbled, fisting her small hand around his chin. He wiped at his eyes and tried to take a steadying breath.
“Hell no. You didn’t have any of the ingredients.” Another laugh broke free as he remembered rummaging through the junk food closet that she tried to pass as a pantry. He was almost positive a tumbleweed of silly straws had blown across a shelf. “I ran to the store while you were sleeping. You did have three bottles of syrup though. How your teeth aren’t rotted out of your mouth is a total mystery.”
“I’m just a really good dentist,” she said through a mouthful of chocolate.
Dan felt her eyes on him as he moved around in the kitchen, her attention making him feel light and warm. The simplicity with which he could be with her brought a sense of peace and domesticity he’d never realized he wanted.
“Where did you learn to make pancakes?” she asked, sipping her coffee.
“Culinary school in France.”
Harper rolled her eyes and poked her foot into his thigh, making him laugh.
“My mom used to make them for me and my dad every weekend,” he said. “I always liked helping her cook.”
“Are you close to her?”
Dan shook his head, pressing his lips into a firm line. “We used to be. Things kind of … shifted though, when my dad died. I probably should call her…” he said more to himself than to Harper. “She keeps texting me that she needs to talk about something important regarding the practice. I just know I don’t want to hear whatever it is.”
He could sense Harper’s trepidation, wondering if she could go there, ask the murky questions about his relationship with his dad, the obvious strain with his mom. He turned to her, placing his hands on either side of her legs, and leaned toward her.
“You can ask me. Nothing is off-limits when it comes to you.” He kissed the tip of her nose and turned back to the stove.
“How did things shift?”
“We dealt with watching him die differently.” Dan glanced at Harper, who stared at him intently, silently urging him on. “My parents met in dental school and got married before graduation. I do believe my dad loved my mom, as much as he was capable of loving her, but he also expected my mom to give up a lot. She originally wanted to go home to Lebanon after graduating, but he demanded they stay here. She was thinking about specializing, he wanted her to work at his practice. She wanted to bring her culture into her life here, he wanted her to assimilate fully into Americana. His career always came first. The practice always came first. So, growing up, she and I had an almost unspoken alliance that he was an asshole, and it ended up making us close. For the most part, she quietly supported me paving my own way, creating my own life, and it created distance between her and my dad, I think.”
Dan scooped the pancakes onto a plate and added more batter to the pan. “But when he was diagnosed with cancer, we both reacted in opposite extremes, and it’s created some tension between us.”
“‘Extremes’ in what way?”
Dan frowned down at the pancakes, using the edge of the spatula to check the bottoms. “My mom was consumed with guilt, I think—like she thought she should be the one dying instead of him, like his life was the important one. It made her reflect on things—their marriage, me, my career—in a not so flattering light.” Dan reached behind Harper for his coffee cup, and she brushed her hand through his hair. The small gesture soothed the wound that was opening in his chest.
“I, on the other hand, felt anger. My dad was always obsessed with this ideal version of what my life should be, who I should be. I was supposed to follow his path, live up to his reputation, eventually go into practice with them, run it after they retired, repeat it all with my own family. But I was never interested. I swear he almost had a stroke when I told him I switched my major from biology to finance.” Dan took a sip of his coffee.
“I still did all the prereqs and exams for dental school and was ready to start at Callowhill a few years ago, but I backed out at the last minute.” He paused, staring at the pan for a minute. “He was so angry. It was like I was the scum of the earth. I never understood that. How could he care that much what I did? I loved math and business and found fulfillment in finance”—he shot her a teasing look—“much to your chagrin.” Harper gave him a weak smile. “And yet it was like I was the biggest failure he could have conjured up. Not doing exactly what he wanted was the greatest sin I could commit.” He played with the edges of one of the pancakes.