Chapter 48

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At work the next day, my mind was positively reeling and my stomach wouldn't stop tying itself into knots. I wasn't sure which was eating away at me more. To say that I was distracted was an understatement. I was jittery, forgetful, clumsy, and hardly managed to do a single thing right the entire shift. More than once, I caught the annoyed eye roll of a coworker, but was too preoccupied to care.

The hours passed by in an agonizingly slow fashion, torturing me with every second that ticked by. I just wanted to know what was going on with Harry and my dad. I wondered if I would go home and discover them hanging out together, or if Harry would have gone home by then.

I wished I'd have asked Harry to stop by my work or something when he was done so I would know.

Finally, after what felt like years, I was able to go home. It was nearly 10pm, and the parking lot was dark as I practically sprinted to my car. My knees bounced anxiously up and down as I drove home, nervous, excited, and scared for whatever I was about to find at home.

I parked my car in the driveway and forced myself to take a deep breath before climbing out of my car. Walking up the porch, I didn't hear any noises coming from the house; I took that as a good sign. At least they weren't fighting.

Cautiously, I let myself into my house and set down my bag and coat before venturing further inside. A quick peek in the kitchen showed my mother sitting at the counter, sipping a cup of coffee and apparently happily surfing the internet on her laptop.

Another good sign. I hadn't even thought about how Harry would talk to my dad with my mom around, but he must have managed somehow if she seemed so happy.

I didn't go into the kitchen, not wanting to get pulled into a conversation with my mom when I was so otherwise preoccupied. Walking down the hall, I came to the archway that led into the living room, where I found my father watching some game on TV, no Harry in sight. I stayed silent as I entered the room and gingerly sat down on the far end of the couch, away from the chair my father was in.

"Hey, Joey," he greeted me, seeming surprised I had chosen to come sit with him.

"Hi," I returned quietly. I didn't know if I should bring up Harry talking to him or not.

"How, um, how was work?" he asked awkwardly, fidgeting with the remote in his hand and not looking at me.

"It was fine."

He nodded at the TV. "Good, good."

I didn't say anything, feeling more awkward by the second. He seemed to be in a good enough mood, it was just that he still struggled with holding a normal conversation with me. I decided to wait and see if he would bring up Harry at all. Nearly a whole minute of silence had ticked by before he spoke again.

"So that Harry," he stated, glancing at me with a raised eyebrow.

"What about him?" I asked innocently.

"He came over for a chat today," he told me. I was careful to keep my facial expression neutral.

"About what?"

"Hmm, mostly your mother and I," he said. His expression, like mine, was difficult to read. He didn't say anything else, giving me literally no information as to how it went besides his seemingly pleasant mood.

"Oh," was all I said, thinking of nothing better.

"He's a good one, that one." I was surprised at the compliment, even though I should have been. They'd apparently known each other years, and of course Harry was the most wonderful person I'd ever met, but it felt good to hear my father acknowledge that.

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