“I wanted to celebrate you being home on a weekday.” She added a can of tomato puree, two more tablespoons of butter, and even more curry powder to the pan. “It feels like I don’t ever see you anymore.”

He stiffened. “Do you think I like it, Bridge? I get up in the morning alone, have breakfast alone, drive to my first call alone, go through more calls alone, eat lunch alone, make more calls and then drive back to my hotel at the end of the day. Alone.”

Bridget stopped stirring. “What do you think my life is like, Dad? It’s mostly like yours, minus the travel.” Most of her friendships had fallen away during the years her mom was sick. After her mom died, her dad started working more hours. Once Bridget turned sixteen, he’d moved from inside sales to a job that kept him away from home for days at a time. Ajay was the first real friend Bridget had made in years.

And that’s all he seemed to be—a friend. Which was fine.

He took a deep breath. “Look, Bridge, there’s no easy way to say this. Triple P is sending me down to South America for a month. I’m flying out Sunday, and I won’t be back until Christmas Eve.”

“What?” It felt like the floor was falling from under her feet. “Are you serious, Dad?” The weekdays always felt so lonely. Sometimes she left the TV on just to hear other people’s voices.

“If you weren’t you, I would have said no.” He leaned against the refrigerator. “There’s not a lot of teens you could leave that long by themselves. But you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. And this is a chance to get my numbers up.”

He was always chasing after a better sales number. Triple P gave him monthly, quarterly, and annual targets. In September, one of his biggest clients had declared bankruptcy and he’d missed his monthly target. Badly. That had thrown off his quarterly and annual targets. Now he was running just to stay in place.

“But South America?” She kept her eyes on the pan as she added the chicken. If she looked at him, she would start crying. “Why do you have to go so far away?”

“There’s no growth left in the domestic market. Down there, they’re more open to plastics. Here, people think plastic is evil. They don’t care that it doesn’t break or corrode, or that it keeps out microorganisms, or helps food stay fresh and tasty. Now customers say they want unbleached paper, or something recyclable or at least compostable. And all these ecofriendly, save-the-planet companies are out there selling reusable containers, or glass or ceramics or that beeswax stuff your friend uses.” He made a raspberry sound. “They’re expensive and impractical.”