Away from chicken curry.
My belly grumbles.
He could have at least waited until after the family dinner to whisk us off to his lair. But the man seems hellbent on being as unpleasant as humanly possible.
Our excursion toward Eli’s house is tension-charged. He’s silent and broody the whole time, always staying at least five feet ahead with those long, long legs. I want to break the silence, but what do you say to someone who’s intent on hating you before they’ve even gotten to know you?
I’m dragging one of my old, cracked suitcases, while Eli effortlessly carries the other. He’s also lugging all of Callie’s stuff and, in spite of my best efforts, the sight of this big, scruffy, inked-up man toting around a pink, polka dot backpack on his giant shoulder makes me a little mushy in the tummy.
He’s clearly trying to be a good father, so he scores brownie points for that. But outside of that minuscule territory, he’s a complete neanderthal.
Eli in the flesh is nothing like the guy I spent all those months exchanging letters with. Eli in the flesh is hard, cold, detached. What a disappointment!
I’ve had my head in the clouds for too long, living in the fantasy world I built in my imagination. So this situation is an overdue reality check.
I’m inwardly cussing the growly father out when his head suddenly snaps around. His slightly panicked gaze seeks out Callie, like he needs to make sure she’s still there. He seems to think his kid could disappear into thin air at any moment.
And as much as I try to toughen myself up against him, when he looks at his daughter with such ferocious protective desperation, it melts me down like candlewax.
He takes an obvious breath of relief when he confirms that his child is still there. Then, his eyes shift to me and his apathy is back. The look he gives me is piercing. Destabilizing. And now I’m on the defensive again.
Callie’s apprehension seems to be melting, though. At least for now. Before long, she’s chattering nonstop as we venture into the unknown. She points out the different wildflowers and bugs trailing the path as we go. It’s impressive. She’s so smart. She truly is a special kid. The more she talks, the more she lifts my own mood.
I start quizzing her on the occasional animal track we come across. “What do you think that one is?” I ask, motioning to a small track with five pointy toes.
We linger as she examines it, but I only give her a few seconds before I’m trying to move her along. We have to jog to try and catch up with her in-a-hurry-for-no-reason daddy. “I think it’s a bear. A baby bear who really needs to cut her fingernails,” Callie decides proudly.
I giggle. I love her way of thinking. “Hmm. Could be,” I say thoughtfully. “But what about a big, furry raccoon?” I ask, widening my eyes with dramatic flair. “Do you think it could be from one of those?”
Her eyes light up and she hops along the path. “Yeah! It could be from one of those!”
“You’re both wrong,” a blunt voice cuts in. “It’s a skunk.”
I nearly trip over my own feet at the sound of Eli’s deep, gravelly tone.
I didn’t even realize he was listening, let alone eyeing the animal tracks along with us.
“No way!” Callie states confidently. “I don’t think it’s a skunk.”
Eli half-turns and eyeballs his child from over his shoulder again. “How come?”
Callie sort of tucks herself behind me. Her chin dives down to her chest and she blinks shyly at her father. “Skunks smell bad. Really bad. And I don’t smell anything.”
Eli doesn’t argue back. Instead, he lets his eyes linger on the girl for a second longer. I don’t miss the awe, the fascination in his face, the slight curve that flashes across his lips before he turns his attention back toward the path.
My pulse thrums. Compassion swoops in yet again. The guy really does love his kid despite all the other personality flaws he has working against him.
Callie hums softly to herself for the rest of the walk, and I remain quiet as I trudge alongside her, taking in my surroundings. I’ve never been down this side of the Kingston estate before and when we finally break through the thick wall of maple trunks, I’m taken aback by the breathtaking structure before us.
“This is beautiful,” I gush as we stand at the edge of the weedy walkway, staring up at the weather-beaten Craftsman bungalow.
Eli shoots me a quizzical glance like he thinks I’m fruitcake-level nutty.
“It is,” I insist, dropping Callie’s hand to take a step forward. “Sure, it looks a little beat up and it needs some work. But imagine it with a pretty garden. And a tree swing. Maybe even a big standalone trellis or a gazebo. Can’t you see it?”
Eli pauses and stares up at the building. I can almost see my vision playing out in his expression.
“So what if there’s a little grime on the outside?” I say softly. “That’s really no reason to judge. Because you never know what beauty is hiding beneath it all, y’know?” I don’t mean to be speaking with double-meanings but the metaphor fits the situation.
His attention drifts over to me. Our gazes hook like the rodes of two anchors, tangling under sea. I’ve never felt a pull so powerful, so mighty toward another person. I can almost feel the glacier between us melting in real-time.
Abruptly, Eli snaps out of it. The moment is gone. “I don’t have the time for all that.” His voice is brittle and bitter as he opens the front door.
My shoulders fall. The hopeful feeling deflates.
The three of us file in.
I glance around the living room. It looks
