“I never met my dad. He was killed in Desert Storm before I was born.”
Brandon reaches for my hand.
“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry, Steph.”
“Thanks.” I squeeze his hand. “You know, they say it’s hard to miss something you never had, but they are full of it. I miss my dad every single day.”
“I understand. It must make you proud, though. Knowing he died defending his country.”
I bristle. It’s the same speech I’ve heard all my life. Some families probably find comfort in the fact that their loved ones died in combat. I’ve even had people tell me that I should consider it an honor.
I guess I’m selfish. I’d rather have my dad.
“Could we maybe talk about something else?”
Brandon nods and gives my hand a squeeze.
“Sure,” he says. “I know! Let’s talk about our first date. Is tomorrow good for you?”
I can’t help but laugh. “I thought this was our first date.”
“Absolutely not. This is muffins and water. First dates are supposed to be epic. It’s the story we’ll tell our children, and our grandchildren—”
“You know, you’re pretty confident for a guy who wears a paisley apron.”
He grins. “Tomorrow night. You, me, and my old VHS copy of The Princess Bride. I’ll kick the guys out of the apartment, and we’ll order a pizza.”
“How about my apartment, my DVD, and I’ll beg Tessa to cook?”
His dimpled smile melts my heart.
“It’s a date.”
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