“I’m flying out later today to meet her and Mo in Dubai.”
“That’s right,” I say, pleasantly surprised at how unbothered I am hearing the word Dubai. “What time does your flight leave?”
“A few hours.” He stares down at his feet where Harriet and Ozzie have taken to grooming each other. “I actually have a favor to ask you, Pen.”
“Does she need to borrow one of my dresses now? Because we are the same size.”
“Harry’s getting a little old to be making long flights.” He kneels down and scratches her graying snout. “I’d never kennel her, and I don’t really have the kind of friends I trust to take care of her. Except for you.”
My heart melts. “You want me to take Harriet?”
“Not forever. She’s my longest-standing relationship with a woman. Just until after New Year’s.” He holds out her little pink leash to me. “What do you say, friend?”
“Yes.”
I hug him until my arms hurt.
I have the first shift this morning with my father. I brace myself for more of the same as yesterday, but to my surprise, my father is awake when I walk into his room. Not only is he awake, but he’s sitting up in bed with a book. My book, to be exact.
“Good morning, Penelope.” My father takes off his reading glasses and folds them in his lap. “Or should I call you Fiona Nelson?”
“When I was a kid, I went through that phase where I wanted everyone to call me Lamb Chop. Is that an option?” I move to his bedside and wrap him in a delicate hug.
“Penelope it is.”
“I’m glad you’re awake, Dad. You kind of scared the shit out of all of us.”
“Myself included.” He laughs. It’s a weak laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “Back to this book.” He taps on the shiny cover. “I may be biased, and this is my first romance, but I’ve got to tell you, it’s very well written.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I blush.
“The descriptions are very detailed. A little graphic for my taste in some parts. I had no idea there were so many ways to describe genitalia—”
“OK, Dad. Save the rest of your review for Goodreads.”
“I will.” He closes the book. “And while we’re on the subject of you and books, I’d like to hear a little more about this bookstore you plan on opening.”
“We don’t have to talk about that.”
“I want to.” My father reaches for a yellow legal pad on his bedside table. “Now, I’ve looked over the reports that your friend Jackie sent over, and they’re incredibly well done.”
“How did you get the reports? And how did Jackie get your email?”
“I found her name in the acknowledgments of your book and I looked her up.” He slides his glasses down his nose. “Why are you always so surprised that your mother and I know how to use the internet? Honestly, it’s a little ageist.”
If I thought I was having an out-of-body experience a few days ago at dinner, then this must be an otherworldly experience altogether. Carter Banks—my father—is talking about romance books and the Smut Coven. He’s got a legal pad on his lap, and he’s read Jackie’s research and projections. How is this possible? How is this my life right now?
I’m not ready for all of this. I mean, I am. I’ve waited my whole life for my father and me to be on the same page about my career and my life. The fact that he’s excited is an added bonus. But it feels like we’re jumping too far ahead. In all this excitement, we’re sweeping stuff under the rug. Stuff that will surely rear its ugly head the moment I have to tell Dad about the no-doughnuts rule.
“Dad, I’m sorry about Thanksgiving,” I say. “And drinks before that. And the last ten years. And—”
“Penelope.” He reaches for my hands. “I don’t need you to apologize for anything.”
“But I do, Dad. I wasn’t fair to you and Mom. I haven’t been for years, and I need to own it. I need to own it so I can do better moving forward.”
“I think it’s safe to say that neither of us were very fair to the other.”
I nod.
“But as a parent, I am the one who failed here, Penelope. Not you.” A single tear runs down his face. “All I have ever wanted for either of my daughters is a good life. I was just too stubborn to realize that my idea of a good life isn’t the only good life out there. When I found out you were coming home for Thanksgiving, I was so scared that I’d do something wrong to make you want to leave again. I think that’s why I worked so hard to make Smith feel included. I thought that if I could get him to like me, you’d do the same.”