Chapter 21 #2
Then, my dad appears. He nods at us and doesn’t say anything. No scowl. He just says calmly, “Silvie, can I speak with you for a moment?”
I follow him to the back of the plane, into the back bedroom, and he closes the door.
“I wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you.” His eyes are kind, and he means it.
I soften. “It’s okay, Dad. You just have to trust me that I know what I’m doing.”
He sighs. “I know. I’m trying to do that. It’s not easy.”
“I heard you had lunch with Cal,” I tell him.
“I did. Quite a young man you have there. Very intriguing.”
I laugh. “He is. I thought you’d like him when you got to know him more.”
He tilts his head. “I think I will. Your mother will hate him on sight.”
When he mentions my mother, I roll my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about Mom.”
He nods. “Let’s just get to it. The board is very curious about what you’re going to do with this meeting.”
I lift my chin confidently. “Good. I hope they’re ready.”
He smiles. “There’s my girl.”
We exit the bedroom and head back to Wilby and Cal. Dad sits next to Wilby, which is hilarious because Wilby is scared of my dad. Wilby eyes me, then slaps a deck of cards on the table we’re all sitting around. “Bullshit. Who’s playing?”
Cal raises an eyebrow, but Wilby’s already shuffling the deck. “We play bullshit. Passes the time.”
Wilby hands the cards to me and says, “Shuffle, I’m going to check on dinner.”
He stands to head to the front of the plane.
My dad nods toward Wilby. “I should fire my assistant and hire him. He’s good.”
I scoff. “You can’t have Wilby. He’s mine. Plus, he’s terrified of you. You’re mean.”
“Silverlyn, I’m not mean,” he says in mock horror.
“Dad.” I tilt my chin to him. “You’ve been through more assistants in six months than I can count.”
Wilby comes back and says, “I had pizza and drinks brought in. This is going to be a fun ride.”
We taxi and lift off, Coconut Beach shrinking beneath us, all blues and greens and sunlight.
I feel sad, I realize.
“We’re really playing bullshit?” Cal asks.
“It’s a classic,” Wilby says. “Have you played?”
My dad glances at him curiously. “That’s the name of the game?”
Cal leans closer to me. “It is. I love this game. Growing up, I played cards with my mom often.”
The pizza is served, and it’s hot and delicious from Iggy’s. “Wilby, good thinking,” I tell him as I take a bite.
Wilby goes first. “Two queens,” he announces confidently, sliding two cards forward.
Cal squints at him. “Bullshit.”
Wilby flips the cards, not queens.
Those two go to war over this. It’s hilarious to watch.
I laugh so hard I almost drop my cards. My dad watches this all quietly, chewing his pizza, eyes darting between us like he’s studying a new species.
My turn. “Three sevens,” I say sweetly.
Wilby narrows his eyes. “That smile tells me everything.”
“Bullshit,” Cal says immediately.
I flip my cards. Three actual sevens.
Wilby groans. “I don’t like this version of you.”
My dad clears his throat. “Can I play?”
Wilby freezes. “Are you familiar with the rules?”
“I am,” my dad says. “I used to play in college.”
I blink. “You did?”
“Yes,” he says dryly.
Wilby slides him his cards. “Welcome to the table.”
My dad plays conservatively at first. Quiet. Careful. Then Cal calls him on a move.
“Bullshit,” Cal says calmly.
My dad looks offended. “You don’t even know what I put down.”
“That’s why it’s fun,” Wilby says.
My dad flips his cards. He was lying.
Wilby whoops. “Sir. I respect you so much right now.”
My dad actually laughs and acts surprised.
As the game goes on, the lines blur. We lose track of whose turn it is. Wilby accuses everyone of cheating. Cal keeps winning with infuriating ease. I get called out three times in a row and swear vengeance.
My dad watches Cal closely. Watches the way he leans in. The way his hand finds mine without thought. The way he lets me win one round on purpose and then smirks like I won’t notice.
At one point, my dad says to Cal, “You’re very good at this.”
I’m not sure if he’s talking about the game or marriage. Either way, it’s the truth.
When the cabin lights dim, and the city lights appear beneath us, the laughter softens. My dad grows quieter again, gaze fixed on the window across the aisle. He looks as if he’s thinking through everything.
After landing, we stand to deplane. Cal reaches up without effort, muscles in his arms flexing as he pulls our bags from the overhead bin. His broad shoulders fill the narrow space, and for a second, it feels like the plane was built too small for him.
He towers over everyone around us at the airport, solid and unmissable, all long lines and quiet strength.
People step aside without thinking, like they can feel his presence before they see him.
I clutch my bag and try not to stare, but it’s hard when he looks like this, strong and steady and completely in control.
I swallow, suddenly very aware that he’s with me. And that maybe I like the way he takes up space in my world just as much as he does in this airport.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” my dad says quietly.
I don’t hesitate. I nod my head once and smile. “I believe in myself, Dad. I’ve got that covered.”
He looks at me for a long moment. “I need to catch up.”
“Yeah. You do.”
He exhales. “I’m trying. I just want you to focus. You have a lot on your plate right now. I don’t think you realize how much this job is going to take out of you.”
Even though Dad still seems a bit hesitant about the whole marriage thing with Cal, something has shifted in him.
For now, that feels like progress.