She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a kid anymore. You could use someone.”
Then one afternoon, I met Kara at the hospital vending machine.
She laughed at my struggle with a stuck bag of chips.
“Want me to show you how the pros do it?”
We went out a few times before I told Isabelle.
“Are you blushing, Dad?” she teased.
“Maybe a little. I’m new to this.”
She squeezed my hand. “Good. You deserve happiness.”
For illustrative purposes only
Six months later, I knew I was falling for Kara. But before anything serious, I wanted her to meet Isabelle.
I planned a proper dinner at home.
As Isabelle loaded the dishwasher, she asked, “Do you think she’ll like me?”
“I know she will.”
On the drive over, Kara was quiet.
“You okay?” I asked. “You look like you’re heading into surgery.”
She gave a shaky laugh. “Just nervous. This is a big moment.”
When we turned onto my street, her grip tightened on her purse.
I parked in the driveway.
She didn’t move.
Her eyes locked on the house—the porch, the wind chime, the worn door. The color drained from her face.
“Michael…” she whispered. “You live here?”
“Yeah… I’ve always lived here.”
Her breathing became shallow.
“I don’t want to go in. Can we reschedule? I don’t feel well.”
I reached for her hand, but she flinched.
“It’s just dinner,” I said gently.
Tears filled her eyes.
“I can’t do this. Not yet.”
“What do you mean? Kara, you’re scaring me.”
Before she could answer, the front door opened.
“Dad! Is that Kara?”
Isabelle stood there, smiling.
Kara stared at her, frozen.
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