Calliope's ex-boyfriend, her high school sweetheart, crash-landed back into her life like a rom-com sequel she never ordered, ready to rewrite the script of her existence once again.
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"You...
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"What's that face for, daddy?"
He momentarily diverts his gaze from the road to glance at me. "It reminds me of prom night. The house hasn't been the same without you girls around," he said with a nostalgic smile.
I smile back, but as I glance out of the window, a wave of surrealism washes over me. I said goodbye to this town a long time ago, and now, being back, feels like a dream. Well, right now it does. Within the short distance from my house to the high school, memories flood my mind. I see the playground where the girls and I used to have our secret meetings, so to speak. The corner store where I spent all my allowance, and even Mario's bar. I so missed his attitude and cheesy jokes more than I thought I would.
"And the garden?" I ask, looking back at him. "Why didn't you tell me you fixed it?"
When my mom walked out on us, her departure seemed to take the life out of the garden as well. No one tended to it because we didn't know how. It was my own little sanctuary. The place I felt safe and free, surrounded by vibrant blossoms and greenery.
He shrugs. "I wanted to surprise you if you ever came out here again. You begged me for years to fix it, and I did for you."
"That's a huge step, Papa Bennett. It looks even better than it did before," Margot says from the back seat of my dad's SUV.
"Are you trying to get me back home?" I ask playfully.
"It would be nice having you home again, and even though you're grown, you're still this little girl in my eyes."
I revel in the warmth of his sweet words. He has a way of knowing exactly what to say, and right now, I crave all the encouraging words I can get. Ever since I arrived, my heart has been racing, and I've been sweating profusely. I'm usually composed and can anticipate how things will unfold, but not this time. It's driving me crazy, and I'm putting in my best effort to maintain a façade of control.
"Oh! Don't forget that I designed our dresses. If anyone asks, I went to the Fashion Institute in LA. You know? Manifesting that shit. Excuse my language, PB," Noelle blurts, gripping my shoulder from the back.
"And I'm a vet and a proud dog mom. I drink wine for breakfast, go to yoga on Monday's, and have a eight hundred credit score. Cool? Cool," Margot says excitedly. "What about you, Cal?"
So oddly specific.
"Um... I don't know," I mumble, thinking out loud. Being an advisor is great, but my current company isn't exactly filling me with joy. Maybe for one night, I can unleash the person I aspire to be. After all, at these events, everyone's full of lies and pretense, right? So, why the hell not? "Alright, I'm a gallery director. I'm talking a six-figure salary, and a boss they fear. My employees won't quit because I pay them too well. I'm basically the villain they love."
While we were getting our stories straight, I didn't even realize that my dad had come to a stop. He was thoroughly enjoying our banter, simply listening in before stepping out of the car to open our doors. He always sets the bar high with his thoughtful gestures.
