My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose

Chapter Twelve

"So, honey, how've the first few weeks been?" Camila's dad said over a cup of coffee. His feet were up on the coffee table and Mila realised that since she'd moved out he'd hardly changed the living room at all. Her books were still in the bookshelf, and cards from her last birthday were still on the mantlepiece.

Then again, it had been three years since her mother's death and Mila still insisted he kept her shoes in the hall, so she couldn't really blame him.

"Uh, really great!" she answered. Even though it had just been the two of them living there for years, the house felt eerily empty. Camila didn't want to think about how lonely it must be when she wasn't there.

"Maybe one day I can stop by and you can give me something really cool? I could become a biker dad," Alejandro joked.

"Oh my god, please tell me you're kidding!"

"Definitely not. I am going to get a tattoo of a motorcycle on fire in the middle of my back and start asking people to call me 'Spike'," he deadpanned.

"If you're not joking," Camila said, walking through to the kitchen to grab another grape soda, "please know I will no longer acknowledge that we're related."

"Of course I'm joking. Do you know how dangerous motorcycle gangs are?"

"No, dad."

"I deal with them daily. Just last week someone got stabbed."

"Yeesh."

"I know right?"

They both laughed as Camila sat back down on the couch. She'd missed this. Living alone was fun and she had always wanted her independence, but sometimes a girl needed to be with her dad, you know?

"I'm really proud of you, kiddo. And I know she would be too."

Mila didn't need to ask who he was talking about. She fought back the inevitable tears that always came whenever she thought about her mom. Tears, and guilt.

Her dad had said he didn't blame her, but she knew he did just a little bit. Who wouldn't? It was entirely Camila's fault that the candle stayed lit, and that it caught fire to the curtains.

It was her fault, no matter how many other people tried to tell her it wasn't.

Moving to her own place, making her own friends, was a fresh start. Owen didn't know, and neither did LaFontaine. And thank god Lauren didn't either. Camila wasn't sure how Lauren would be able to look her in the eyes if she knew what had happened.

"You know I think Alex is working today. You could go see her at the bank?"

Mila sighed. Of course Alex would come up in conversation. "No, Dad. I don't really want to talk to her right now."

"Why not? What the hell happened between you two?"

"It's a long story," she avoided her dad's gaze, suddenly becoming very interested in her fingernails. She wasn't ready for this conversation. She probably wasn't ever going to be ready for it.

Not only would it lead to her having to come out to her dad, but it also meant talking about Alex, which was painful enough in itself. Camila still felt awful when she thought about it. She wasn't sure if it was sadness or anger or embarrassment but, whatever it was, it wasn't fun.

"Honey, you should try and make up-"

"No! Okay, I don't want to make out with her!"

"What?"

"Up! I said I don't want to make up with her!"

Her dad raised his eyebrow, then sipped his coffee. Camila knew he probably knew. But she also knew he wouldn't bring it up and would let her tell him in her own time. Which she appreciated, but god it was difficult. It would be way easier if he just came out and asked her.