Smiling, I hand over my card. He rings me up, and when I go to sign the receipt, I notice the amount is way too small. He didn’t charge me for the burger he made me. I want to protest, but he’s already rushed away to take care of another customer, so all I can do is leave a hefty tip instead.

By the time I get back to our table, May’s burger is completely gone. I hastily dump my food into the box along with her leftover fries, and then we head out. As we cut across the path through the town green to walk home, I pop the box open and start munching on fries.

“Dad.” May nudges me in the side.

I finish chewing and brace myself. My time’s up. I either have this incredibly awkward conversation with my daughter, or I have an even more incredibly awkward conversation with her grandparents when I explain that I completely lied about being in a relationship. Only one of those options has me talking to someone who I know loves me.

“This has to stay between us,” I tell her.

“Is there a celebrity staying at the inn?” she asks excitedly. “Oh my god, please tell me it’s Skyler James!”

“What? No.”

Her face falls. “Damn.”

Shaking my head, I say, “Anyway, this is something that nobody else in town knows, and it needs to stay that way, but... Travis is gay.”

“Okay. That’s none of my business, so why are you telling me?” she asks. Then, eyes growing wide, she grips my forearm. “Oh my god, you guys are dating!”

“Yes,” I say, relieved she gets it. Oh, wait. No. “No, we’re not dating. Why would you think that?”

She cocks her head at me. “Um. Because you guys are kind of obsessed with each other?”

“What? We are not!”

“Sure... Then if this isn’t about the two of you, why do I need to know about Travis’s sexuality? He’s a private person.”

God, she’s too mature. And yeah, I guess I didn’t need to start with that. I stuff another emotional support French fry in my mouth while I recalibrate. Then as we walk past some of the small businesses on the other side of the square—the general store, the salon—I spill everything.

I mean, not everything. I don’t explain my fear that her grandparents might try to swoop in and take her away from me. She doesn’t need to know about that.

But she knows how off-kilter they can make me feel sometimes. So when I explain how I accidentally told Elise I had a boyfriend, that’s probably why she’s kind enough to try to hold back her laughter.