by Emma Dalton
Kara: Sure.
Brayden: Thanks. That means a lot. And you have a kind heart, too, Kara. I can’t imagine many people agreeing to do this like you are. If this works out, I’ll be forever in your debt.
Kara: Don’t see it like that. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.
Brayden: We’re kind of getting ahead of ourselves aren’t we? Tonight might not go the way we want.
Kara: Fingers crossed.
Brayden: See ya at 7:00 on the dot. Because I know your dad likes punctuality.
Kara: You bet.
Once everything is in order in the kitchen, I race up to take a shower and then dress into a pretty dress. Not too formal, but not too casual, either. As for makeup? Ugh, I still didn’t figure out most of it, but I do put on some lipstick and eye shadow. That’s the best I can do for now.
For the next hour, I pace in my room, imagining different scenarios. My dad falling in love with Brayden and recruiting him on the spot—would that mean our arrangement would be over and we’d return to ignoring each other at school? Or would he at least say hi?
The next scenario is my dad hating him. That would definitely put an end to our arrangement and Brayden would avoid me at all costs. Ugh, I hope that doesn’t happen.
The doorbell rings, nearly sending me flying to the ceiling. Is it time already?
“Is that him?” Dad calls from downstairs. “He’s twenty minutes early.”
“Don’t answer!” I yell as I race out of my room and nearly tumble down the stairs. “I got it.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, holding up his hands. “I’ll be in the living room. You must really like this boy,” he mutters as he lowers himself on the couch.
I run my hands down my dress, straightening out the creases. Then I quickly glance in the hallway mirror to look at my reflection. Ugh, my hair is so flat. I tried using a curling iron, but that didn’t help. I wish my hair was like Dani’s—long and wavy and glossy. Mine just sits on my shoulders like a lazy cat.
The doorbell rings again.
“Are you going to let the poor boy just stand out there?” Dad calls with a chuckle.
Taking a deep breath, I close my fingers over the knob and pull the door open. Brayden stands there with a bottle and flowers in his hands. He’s dressed in a dark blue dress shirt and black pants. Man, he fills the clothes so perfectly…
“Hi,” he says with a nervous laugh.
“Hi! You look great! I love your shirt.”
“Thanks. You look great, too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress.”
I stare down at my outfit. “You haven’t? Oh, I guess not.”
“I like it.” He holds out the bottle. “For your dad.”
“You brought wine?” I gasp. That will so not make a good impression on my dad.
“Wine?” he asks with wide eyes. He quickly studies the label. “For a second, I thought I grabbed the wrong bottle. It’s sparkling water.”
“Oh,” I say, laughing stupidly. “Yeah, that’s better than wine.”
“I didn’t know what to bring for your dad. And this is for your mom.” He holds up the flowers.
“Oh…” I take it from him. “My mom, um…”
“So there’s the famous boyfriend.” The door widens and Dad appears. “Hello again. Nice to see you from the door and not my daughter’s window.” Dad laughs.
“Mr. Gander, it’s such an honor to meet you. I brought you sparkling water.” He holds out the bottle. “And flowers for your wife.” He nods to the flowers in my hands.
“My wife?” Dad asks, eyes flitting to mine. Ugh, this is such a mess. As my boyfriend, he should know my mom’s dead. I didn’t want to tell him because I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me.
Brayden’s confused eyes travel from me, to my dad, back to me.
“Unfortunately, my wife passed away three years ago,” Dad says. “But I’m sure my little pumpkin would love the flowers.”
“Dad,” I groan. “Do you have to call me that in front of Brayden?”
“I sure do,” he says as he teasingly tugs on my ear.
“Dad!”
Brayden laughs. “You guys seem very close.”
“We’re all each other has,” Dad says. He motions with his hands. “Come in, come in.”
Brayden smiles at me as he steps into the house and scans around. On the outside, he looks cool and calm. But I notice the way he clenches his hands at his sides, and how he’s constantly rubbing the back of his neck. He’s so nervous. It’s kind of adorable. But it’s my mission to help him achieve his goals.
“Your home is lovely,” he says.
“My wife designed it all,” Dad says with a pained smile. “If you knew my wife, you’d know this was her touch.”
“I’m sorry I never met her. She must have been an amazing person, especially to have raised a daughter as special as Kara.”
Special? Does he really think so? Or is he just trying to butter Dad up? Either way, I feel like I might turn to jelly.
Dad nods approvingly at me before giving Brayden a tour of the house. I take the time to check on the food to make sure it’s not burned. Thankfully, it’s not. I also want to give them some alone time. I know Dad will love Brayden once he gets to know him. Everyone loves him.
“Food’s ready?” Dad asks as he and Brayden walk into the kitchen.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Are those the same cookies I had the last time I was here?” Brayden asks as he eyes them. The way his eyes light up—it’s so cute, I just want to kiss him.
“Yep,” I say with a laugh. “You can have some.”
“You’ll spoil your dinner,” Dad says.
“Dad, we’re not five.”
He shrugs helplessly to Brayden. “It’s hard raising a teen all by myself. Everything I say is wrong.”
I gently slap his arm. “I’m not that bad.”
He grins. “No, you’re not. I think I got lucky.” He wraps his arm around me and kisses the side of my face.
I know I should be a little embarrassed in front of Brayden, but I’m not. I just love these moments with Dad. Like he said, we’re all each other has. I’m glad he and I are still close after the ordeal of losing Mom. We could have pulled apart, but we stuck together like glue.
“You hungry, Brayden?” Dad asks.
“Honestly? I’m starving.”
“Then let’s dig in.”
We settle down at the table, with Dad at the head and Brayden and me side by side. I get a whiff of his delicious smell and try not to sigh in pleasure.
“Smells delicious,” Brayden compliments.
“Let’s hope it tastes as good as it smells,” I say as I pass the dish to Dad. He takes a helping before passing it over to Brayden. But Brayden doesn’t take a helping for himself. Holding the dish before me, he says, “Can I serve you?”
“Y-yeah,” I stammer as I hold out my plate. With a large grin, he places quite a helping on my plate. My eyes trek to Dad, who wears a pleased smile on his face. Brayden is definitely winning brownie points. Like all the other times, I wish this was real.
Once my plate is full to the brim—literally—he serves himself and places the dish back on the table. I wait until both men take a bite of the food, too nervous to taste it myself. What if it tastes like mud? A bad meal could ruin tonight, and I can’t let anything get in the way of Brayden fulfilling his dreams.
“Mmm,” Brayden says after taking a bite. He cuts himself another piece and stuffs it into his mouth, like he can’t get enough.
“Delicious, pumpkin,” Dad says over a full mouth.
They’re just being nice, right?
Tentatively, I cut a small piece and nibble on it. “Holy crap, it is good!”
Brayden and Dad laugh.
“It’s because of Dani’s mom. I have to thank her later.”
“I think you inherited your mom’s cooking talent,” Dad says with a wink.
“I wish I inherited s
ome of her other talents,” I mutter.
Suddenly, I feel a warm hand rest on my knee. My eyes flit to Brayden, who gives me a sympathetic smile. He doesn’t know exactly what I’m referring to, but oh my gosh, his hand is on my knee. Okay, not really because the fabric of my dress is in the way, but I feel the warmth of his skin. It radiates to every single part of my body, making me feel like I’m in a cocoon.
And just like that, it’s over. He removes his hand and continues to eat. Darn.
“So tell me about your family, Brayden,” Dad says as he cuts another slice of chicken. “Barrington rings a bell, but I can’t place it.”
“You probably heard of my brother, Brock Barrington,” Brayden offers. “Or maybe my dad? He tried to go pro, but life was a little hard.”
“Oh?” Dad asks.
“My grandfather was paralyzed when my dad was twelve, and my dad had to help support the family. He tried to balance football and a job, but it never really worked out. He had to say goodbye to his dreams. That’s why my brother followed in his footsteps—he wanted to make my dad’s dream come true.” His gaze falls to his plate. “Now it’s up to me to fulfill both their dreams.”
Dad looks at him. “Did your brother quit playing?”
Brayden swallows hard before raising his head to Dad. “No. He died in a car accident two years ago.”
“I’m so sorry. What a tragedy.”
“It’s been hard without him, but my little sister is a lot like him. Well, I guess she’s trying to emulate me now. I don’t know how much she remembers about Brock, since she was three when he died. But she’s a little firecracker.” He smiles. “Her dream is to follow in my footsteps and try to go pro. I know she can do it. She’s the toughest kid I know.”
“After two brothers, I’m sure she is,” Dad says with a smile.
“Oh, but I baby her, too,” Brayden says with a laugh. “She definitely is the princess of the family. A tough princess, though. If she were in a fairytale, she’d be the one riding a horse and rushing to save her prince.”
I can’t help but stare at him in a total daze. Can this guy be any more perfect?
“It sounds like you love your sister very much,” Dad says.
“Yeah.” Brayden plays around with his food. “After losing Brock, I guess I’ve grown attached to her. Maybe I’m a little overprotective. But the kid doesn’t need anyone looking after her. She’s a beast.”
“Maybe I’ll recruit her one day,” Dad says as he takes another bite.
Brayden glances at him and smiles a little. “Yeah, hope so.”
I can see the question in his eyes—what about me? Studying Dad, I have no idea what he thinks of him. Then again, I don’t think he’s ever seen him play.
“Brayden’s such a good QB, Dad,” I gush. “You need to watch him.”
Dad nods, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I’m sure the opportunity will present itself.”
Gah! How frustrating. I wish I could order Dad to come watch the game next Friday. But I know things aren’t so simple. Brayden and I need to be patient.
“What are your goals, Brayden?” Dad asks.
“Well, my ultimate goal is to play for a pro team. As for other goals? I want to do well in school, enjoy my last two years of high school with my friends. Make the most of the experience. And be the best brother and son I can be.”
“Great answers.” Dad turns to me. “This was delicious, pumpkin. You should cook more often.”
“No way! After such an ordeal, I swear I have some gray hair.”
Brayden laughs softly. “I hope you didn’t go through all that trouble just for me.”
“I think my daughter likes you a lot,” Dad teases.
My face probably redder than the reddest tomato, I gasp, “Dad!”
He shrugs. “My job is to embarrass you, honey. Especially in front of your boyfriend.”
“Oh my gosh.” I cover my face.
“Now, am I mistaken or did I see chocolate chip cookies?”
“I’ve been thinking about them since I got here,” Brayden admits with a laugh.
My face still bright red, I slide off my chair and head to the counter, where I placed the cookies. Ugh, if I knew my dad would embarrass me like that, I would have ditched the meal and let the two of them get to know each other.
Once I’m sure my face has regained its natural color, I return to the table with the plate of cookies and place it in the center of the table.
“They look even more delicious than the last time,” Brayden says as he reaches for one and takes a bite. He sighs, his eyes fluttering shut. “Heaven.”
“Last time?” Dad asks, eyebrows furrowed. “You two were alone here?”
“B-before we were together,” I quickly say. “I wrote an article on Brayden for the school paper. Martina wanted me to dig deep and get to know the Lions’ QB.”
“You meant to say the Lions’ amazing QB.”
I laugh. “You still didn’t forget that, huh?”
He grins and winks. “Never.”
“I must say,” Dad says as he leans back in his seat with another cookie, “you two make quite the cute couple.”
I freeze, my face scorching hot. “No we don’t! I mean…ugh.” I cover my face again.
Dad chuckles. “It’s fun teasing her.”
“I’m so lucky to be your daughter,” my muffled voice says.
“Can I offer to do the dishes?” Brayden asks, starting to collect my plate and Dad’s.
Dad waves him away. “You two hang out in the living room. Mind you, I’ll be right next door in the kitchen, so no funny business.”
Funny business? Can someone please take that knife from the table and stab me through the heart? Thank you.
“I insist, sir,” Brayden says.
Dad waves him away again. “I appreciate it, son. Go have fun with my daughter.”
Brayden nods and smiles at me. “Wanna talk in the living room?”
I kind of want to run up to my room and disappear, but of course I can’t do that. We need to pretend we’re a real couple, and a real couple would sit on the couch and talk. I nod and walk into the living room, lowering myself on the couch. Brayden sits down next to me and smiles sweetly.
“Sorry about my dad,” I whisper. “He’s like so cool in front of all the guys he recruits, but at home he’s a total goof.”
“He’s awesome, actually,” Brayden says. “I really like him.”
“Let’s hope the feeling is mutual.”
His forehead creases. “Do you think he doesn’t like me? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, no,” I quickly say. “You were perfect. The perfect gentleman, the perfect boyfriend. You even offered to do the dishes! You did great, dude.”
He smiles in relief. “Thanks.” His smile suddenly vanishes, his face growing serious. “Sorry about your mom, Kara. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. You couldn’t have possibly known if I didn’t tell you.” I grab a cushion and hug it to my chest. “It’s um…hard to talk about her with strangers, you know? Sorry I didn’t tell you…”
“No, I get it,” he assures me. “It’s sometimes hard to talk about Brock. But it feels good, too. Like I’m keeping his memory alive. Everyone knew him and loved him, so they love talking about him.”
“You must really miss him.”
He nods with a pained look in his eyes. “Yeah. You must really miss your mom.”
“That’s why I wanted to try out for cheerleading,” I admit. “My mom was a cheerleader at Edenbury High. Her picture is in the hallway.”
His eyebrows lower. “Is that the same photo Coach Myers is in?”
“Yeah.”
He thinks about it for a second, and then his eyes rove around the room, focusing on the photos of Mom hanging on the walls or in the picture frames. “You look like her.”
“I do?”
“Yeah.”
Warmth fills my insides. I know I look a lot like her—some pe
ople used to joke that we could be twins—but it’s different hearing it from Brayden. I don’t know why. Maybe because he sees me? But that’s just wishful thinking. We barely know anything about each other.
Shifting on the couch, I say, “Do you want to watch something? There’s this new show on Netflix I’m dying to watch.”
“I should probably head home,” he says. “Bailey’s waiting for me to read her a bedtime story.”
Disappointment washes over me, but at the same time I’m glad he’s such a great older brother. “She must love when you tuck her into bed.”
“She’s the number one girl in my life,” he says as we get to our feet.
We stand awkwardly at the door.
I reach for the knob and pull the door open. “Good night, Brayden.”
He smiles sweetly. “Good night, Kara. And thanks for all this. Is your dad still around? I’d like to wish him good night and thank him for hosting me.”
“One second. Dad?” I call.
There’s some shuffling and then footsteps, and then Dad appears. He looks a little surprised, probably wondering where my boyfriend is running off to so early.
“Brayden’s going home to tuck his little sister into bed and read her a bedtime story,” I say.
“How sweet.” I can see it in his eyes—Dad approves of him. I don’t think Brayden notices it, since he seems a little nervous.
“I want to thank you for hosting me, Mr. Gander.” Brayden holds out his hand. “I had a really great time.”
Dad shakes his hand firmly. “Good grip there, son.”
“Thanks,” Brayden says with a nervous laugh. “Good night, Mr. Gander.”
“Good night, Brayden.”
Brayden nods to me before slipping out the door. I watch him make his way to his car and fold himself inside. The windows are tinted, so I can’t see him, but he doesn’t pull out of the curb. I can imagine him sitting in there and thinking about this evening, wondering if he made a good impression on Dad. I wonder if I’m in any of his thoughts, or if it’s only Dad.
“What are you staring at, pumpkin?” Dad sticks his head out.
“Nothing,” I say, closing the door. A second later, I hear Brayden drive away. I turn to face Dad, studying his expression closely. “So? What do you think?”