Reliving Yesterday ✔

Chapter 37.

I had barely put my bag down on Friday afternoon when my Dad closed his briefcase and smiled at me.

"Feels like I'm always leaving you, kiddo," he said, softly.

I shrugged. "You are."

A look of worry crossed his face until he realized I was joking. He walked over to me and kissed the top of my head. "I'll make sure that I remember to make time for my girl these holidays, alright?" he said, "And your birthday is coming up. Let's make some good times happen, you know?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Good times happen?"

He gave me a look. "You know what I mean. The year is ending and I'm going to make time for my girl, okay?"

"You always do, Dad." I smiled, earning myself another kiss atop my head.

"You're amazing, Princess. Best daughter a Dad could ask for," he told me as he pulled on his coat and buttoned it, "I'll be back on Monday or Tuesday, alright? Be good for me."

"I will, Dad."

"And make sure you behave with Parker," he gave me a pointed look. "And if he's sleeping over, he sleeps on the couch, or in the guest bedroom, you understand?"

My eyes widened and my cheeks started to heat up. "Oh my God, Dad, I know."

He gave me another look and no sooner had I promised to do my homework before watching the latest episodes of all my TV shows, he was gone and the house was quiet and still again.

The clock told me it was closing upon five, and so I trudged up the stairs to my room, where I kicked off my shoes and put my bag on the floor near my table. I sighed, wondering what to do to kill a little time.

It was in the midst of my wanderings that Parker swung himself through my window, with a huge smile plastered across his face.

"Hey," he said, dragging the syllable.

I smiled back at him. "Hey. Were you waiting for my Dad to leave?"

He looked sheepish. "No," he said in a way that made it obvious that he was lying.

We stood in silence for a few moments before he cocked his head to one side and asked, "Dinner?"

I nodded. "We probably need to make something."

He looked almost excited at the prospect of cooking. "Fear not, milady, for I shall whip up some delicious treats." He then began to steer me out of my room and towards the kitchen.

"What are we having?" I asked him as he sat me down at a chair at the kitchen island.

"You'll see I guess," he told me, raising his eyebrows suggestively, as he headed over to the refrigerator.

I watched the back of his head as he rummaged around in there, looking through ingredients to figure out what to make. An overwhelming feeling filled my heart and my stomach and the image of him humming in my kitchen while he decided what to cook us for dinner made something that had been violently spinning in my chest settle down with a happy sigh. It was so calming and familiar even though it was new. It was the best thing I'd felt in a long time. Like I was home.

He finally emerged from the depths of the refrigerator with a lopsided smile on his face, almost like he was feeling the same thing that I was feeling.

"So, what are we having?" I asked.

"Filet mignon," he said in a fake French accent, while he tried to balance a hundred ingredients in his arms.

"I don't even eat beef, man," I told him, like he didn't know this already, "What are we actually having?" I asked, peering into all the things he had retrieved from the refrigerator.