Like Real People Do

White Picket Fence

He seemed to sense that his response would make me uneasy, because he shifted in his seat, twisting his torso to face me, his eyes narrowing in concern. "In Sydney, yeah, that was the plan."

"I didn't realize you had those kinds of plans," I whispered, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. It was one thing to want to date him, but it was entirely another to entertain the idea of uprooting my entire life to be with him.

"It's not set in stone or anything," he assured me, "I just.... Taking the twins on the road with me is fine for now, because they're still young and they're not in school. But I do want them to have a somewhat normal childhood. I don't want them constantly moving around when they start school. I want them to be able to have friends that they'll be able to stay friends with. I don't want them to miss out on anything because of me."

I smiled softly. "That makes sense."

He reached over to grab my hand. "You seem concerned."

"I'm not," I shook my head. This wasn't the time to have this conversation. We hadn't defined anything about our relationship besides openly admitting our feelings. We hadn't even kissed. Which meant that turning back was always an option. Either he could decide that planning a future with me wasn't worth it or I could give in to my fears and decide that thinking about moving my life for him was far too overwhelming, but either way, it seemed we were doomed.

"Cecily," he spoke softly, not believing my assurance that everything was alright, "if something's bothering you, you can tell me."

"I'm fine," I insisted, changing the subject to something that was actually true. "I'm just nervous about seeing my dad."

I could tell that he wasn't convinced, but he didn't push the issue, instead glancing out the window at the suburban neighborhood we were currently traveling through. "Are we almost there?"

"Yep," I nodded, recognizing the ceramic geese in a neighbor's front yard. "Just around the corner."

The car came to a stop less than a minute later in front of a red brick house and Jaxon and I exited the vehicle silently. It was he who broke the silence once we were walking towards the front door. "So this is where you grew up? I love it."

"I did too," I replied quietly. This was the house I was brought home to after I was born. I'd spent eighteen years living here and it broke my heart the day I decided I wasn't going to come back. It was strange to be here now, standing at the front door as though I was returning home from the bus stop.

"Your dad is gonna be home in the middle of the day?" Jaxon asked.

I nodded. "He's retired."

"What did he used to do?"

"He made furniture." He was amazing at one time. I remember sitting in his workshop as a child and watching in fascination as he turned hunks of wood into the beautiful pieces of art I'd ever seen.

Jaxon smiled softly. "Is that where you get your artistic eye?"

"Maybe." Probably. I just didn't want to admit it. Inhaling deeply, I lifted a fist to knock on the door. It swung open after about a minute to reveal my father on the other side, looking much older than I remembered him. "Hi, Dad."

"Cecily," his eyes widened in surprise as he spoke my name, but he stepped aside and gestured for us to enter. "Come in, come in."

"Dad, this is my friend Jaxon," I said before the situation could be made awkward by my dad asking why I'd brought along a random guy.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," Jaxon smiled warmly, shaking my father's hand.

My dad returned his smile. "Call me Phillip, please," he insisted, gesturing for us to make ourselves comfortable in the living room. Once Jaxon and I were seated uncomfortably next to each other on the couch like two teenagers being interrogated before going on their first date, my dad spoke again. "So...um, what have you been up to?"