“It was okay,” I hedge and look at him, squinting into the sun. “Funny thing, actually... Finn was there.”

His eyebrows slowly inch up. “Finn, huh?”

I’ve always relied on Dad’s brain to help me sort through my day, my frustrations, my adventures. So of course he knows the PG-rated details of my Vegas trip: We met at a bar, got drunk and married. After a sharp cut-to-black in the version of the story he got, I told him about how we went together to get the marriage annulled the next afternoon.

But he also knows I flew up to visit Finn for less than a day. So when I mention that he was at the party last night, I’m pretty sure my dad puts two and two together.

“It was a good distraction...” I mumble, even more quietly admitting, “not that much happened.”

His eyes dance with restrained teasing. “He’s in town for the grand opening?”

I nod, leaving out the part where it seems Finn is staying for a couple weeks. I can’t decide if I’m excited about this news, or irritated. As if I don’t already have enough to think about, now I’m going to be forced into seeing him every time I want to socialize?

Dad watches me as I doodle in the dry concrete with a wet fingertip. I’ve never had to hide my interest in boys, my distress over girl-dramas, or my fears and anxiety about life from him. Growing up, our deal was that as long as I always came to him first with the big things, he would do his best not to lecture, judge, or go into what mom calls his Protective Latin Rage.

“Distractions are sometimes nice,” he says, watching me. The problem with being raised by such an amazing man is that it’s nearly impossible not to compare every boy I meet to him. Every single one falls short.

I shrug.

“With everything going on in your life, it’s too bad he lives so far away.”

I look over at him. “He’s here for a couple of weeks.”

Dad laughs at my grim expression and lifts himself out of the pool. Water pours off him into puddles at his feet, reflecting a hundred dots of sun on the ground.

“I adore you, my beautiful, fierce girl.” He bends for a towel and dries off his chest and arms as he says, “And I know you. I bet you’re thinking of all the reasons why you shouldn’t spend time with him.”

“Of course I shouldn’t—”