As soon as I’m buzzed in, I head to the front desk to see Tracey, who tells me all about the trip she and her wife are taking to Punta Cana for their first anniversary.

“We’re going to do nothing but sit around and eat. Oh, and I plan to drink about one daiquiri for every hour that we’re there.”

I grimace. “Well, I guess it was nice knowing you, because you’re definitely going to die of alcohol poisoning.”

She waves me off. “Whatever. Vacation is for indulging. When’s the last time you took one?”

“It’s been a while,” I say as I drum my nails on the counter, but the truth is, it’s been more than a while. The last time I took a vacation, Milo and I were crammed into the back seat of our family car as the four of us drove to Myrtle Beach. And it’s not like I didn’t have a good time, but I have a feeling the highlight of an adult vacation isn’t a trip to Ripley’s Believe It or Not.

I let her get back to work and head to Dad’s room. He’s in good spirits today, and since the weather’s somewhat nice, we go out to the courtyard to sit. That’s the thing about Ohio—winter drags on so long that once mid-March hits, if it’s above forty degrees everyone’s wearing shorts and T-shirts and dining on patios.

“So where’s that boyfriend of yours been?” he asks as we sit down on the wicker furniture.

“What boyfriend, Dad?” I ask patiently.

“You know.” He stares off into space for a moment, then looks at me again. “Dave Whatshisface.”

I bite my lip to avoid wincing. Dave was my last “serious” relationship, way back in high school. We were together for an entire year, or seven years in Chloe time (which is basically measured like dog years).

This isn’t the first time Dad has brought Dave up. I don’t know if it’s because he hasn’t really met anyone I’ve dated since Dave (well, he’s met Tracey, although he doesn’t know we dated) or if it’s his brain snagging on a memory, but for some reason he thinks Dave and I are still together.

“Dad,” I say, putting a hand on his arm. “Dave and I aren’t together.”

He sighs. “I wish you could settle down with a nice boy.”

“Dad,” I say again. “You know I date boys and girls.”

“Men and women” would be more accurate, but when my dad looks at me, I can tell he’s seeing me as I looked when I was in high school.

He shakes his head a few times. “I know that. I’m old but I can remember some things.”

“I know you can,” I say with a small smile.

He looks at me and his eyes, so often unfocused these days, look crystal clear. “I’m worried I’m never gonna be able to walk you down the aisle, Chloe. I want to know that someone’s gonna take care of you after I’m gone. You deserve someone who will look after you.”