Nothing to lose

Chapter 18: Mia

"Dad, she can't just pop up whenever she wants!" I told dad angrily over the phone. My shift was almost over, and the café was kind of slow.

I gave him all the details of this morning, and he listened intently, throwing in his few cents here and there.

"Mia," Dad's voice was calm and even. The complete opposite of mine that was tangled up with distress and confusion. "In her defense, you haven't been responding to her texts. She was worried and figured it would be best to talk to you in person. She wants to tell you her full story before you decide on anything."

I huffed out a breath and furiously began to clean the already immaculate kitchen counters with a paper towel while everyone else worked around me. I needed to do something to get out my pent-up frustration. "I don't believe I owe it to her to sit down and listen to what she has to say," I said bitterly, trying my best to keep my voice low.

How could someone who spent years without making time for you suddenly ask for you to make time for them?

I didn't expect dad to agree with me. "You're right," he said. My hands froze on the counter. Did I hear him correctly?

As if he could sense my disbelief from all those miles away, he repeated himself. "You have every right to feel that way. But you also have the right to the truth, so you should take it. Then see how you feel afterward."

Why did he have to play Mr. Logic all the time?

"I'll consider it," I replied noncommittedly.

I checked the clock above the kitchen door. Grey should be here in 30 minutes. "Anyways, I have other things to focus on right now," I said, thinking about the deal I made with Grey.

"What do you mean?" Dad sounded suspicious, which was why he had asked cautiously.

I shrugged, "Nothing." It was probably best not to share this over the phone.

"No, no. Something else is going on with you. What is it?" Dad rushed on to ask.

I laughed nervously into the phone. "Just girl stuff. Don't worry about it." Typically, when dad's heard anything surrounding the words "girl stuff," he left it alone.

But instead, Dad snickered. "If I found out this has something to do with some new boy in town..." he began to warn me.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, dad. He's not some new guy." I quickly covered my mouth, silently cursing myself for letting that little admission slip.

"WHAT?" Dad's voice boomed on the other end. I had to pull the phone away from my ear. I knew he wasn't mad or anything, just in a tiny bit of shock and mostly likely drowning with curiosity. "Mia..." he began.

"Dr. Harper. Your next patient is here," I heard his assistant say, interrupting him.

Boy, did she have good timing?

"I have to go," Dad hurried on to say. "But we'll pick this up later, okay." There was no mistaking it. That was not a question but a statement.

"Sure thing, Dad," I mumbled, already developing a slight hint of anxiety over that future phone call.

"Alright. I love you."

"Love you too. Bye."

"Bye." He hung up first.

I let out a deep sigh.

I tossed the paper towel that I had been using in the trash bin and washed my hands.

One of the bakers asked me to bring out the fresh batch of Danishes and cookies.

"Sure, no problem." I slipped on the oven mitts. Grabbing the trays, I pushed open the kitchen door with my hip.