"Harry, what are you doing?" I question with a nearly empty glass of wine in my hand.
"Waiting,"
His answer is simple but as I tip my head back against the plush back of the couch, I find myself more confused than before.
"Umm?" I frown. "No, I mean the pacing, baby?"
He barely looks up at me, his eyes glued to the door as he stomps back and forth along the living room carpet with an irritated grimace sitting heavy on his forehead.
"She's late."
I glance at the clock that is hanging in the middle of a wall that is scattered with family photos and wedding pictures from both of our weddings.
The real and the fake one.
"She's not late, H," I tell him. "We said to be back by midnight, she's still got fifteen minutes,"
Harry shakes his head, briefly looking down at me with horror. Knowing him, he is probably wondering how I could possibly be so calm and unstressed in a moment like this but I know my daughter, I know she is safe and I know she will be back on time like we asked.
"This is Nola we are talking about!" He huffs in annoyance. "She's always early! For everything!"
I smile at him, sipping on the red wine in my glass while I watch him take a steady gulp of the whisky that was remaining in his tumbler. Only, he downs the entire thing and leaves the ice cubes to rattle around the now empty glass.
"Her being early is normally very fucking irritating but now I am thanking god that she's punctual... where the hell is she?" He stresses.
"Hey?" I call his name, my lips are red from how hard I am biting into them to stop myself from bursting out laughing at his ludicrousy. "Would you calm down, she has fifteen minutes to get home."
"I can't!" He argues, turning on his heel to march the other way. "I'm too anxious!"
"She's eighteen," I reason with him. "She's on a first date, let her be..."
"Nope!" He shakes his head, running his hands back through his shorter hair with another strained huff. "She's still my little baby."
I smile at him and lean back on the couch and set my eyes back on the TV show we were watching together until Mr Stressy Pants decided to have a full-on breakdown about our daughter not being home early.
"Sunshine?" He calls my name which causes me to throw my head back and smile at him. "Why are you so calm right now?"
I shrug, offering him my wine glance as he storms over in his incessant laps of the living room. "Why wouldn't I be?"
