Kara was quiet as we drove across town to my house.
I glanced at her, trying to read her mood. “You okay? You look like you’re headed into surgery, not dinner.”
She gave a small, shaky laugh. “Just nervous, I guess. Meeting your daughter, that’s a big moment, Michael.”
“Dad, do you think she’ll like me?”
“She’s excited,” I promised. “She’s wanted to meet you for weeks.”
We turned down my block. Kara’s fingers tightened on her purse.
When I pulled into the driveway, she didn’t move. Her eyes locked on the porch, blue-painted steps, the wind chime, the dent in the door. I watched the color drain from her face.
“Michael…” Kara’s voice was thin. “You live here?”
“Yeah,” I said, surprised. “I’ve lived here since before Izzy. I’m sorry it’s the first time you’re coming here. I know my schedule has us eating out more than anything.”
