I narrowed my eyes at him over my coffee as I slurped extra loudly. He chuckled and tossed a towel over his shoulder. “Let me check in with Tony but I’m sure he can cover me for a few so I can sit with you.”

“Oh, Dad, you don’t have to do that,” I said. “I can sit here and annoy you while you’re working just fine.”

He waved that statement away like it was a pesky fly before heading to the kitchen. I tapped my fingers against my cup with an ache in my chest. Unconditional love was stopping in the middle of the busiest two hours of your day to sit with your daughter who’d shown up at the most inconvenient time possible. If I wanted to make a movie about all the things he’d done like this for me and my sister over the years, it’d be a thousand hours long.

He returned a few seconds later, rounded the counter, and perched on one of the stools, wearing the same black pants and black rubber work shoes he’d worn my entire childhood. The rest of his wardrobe consisted of Phillies hats, Eagles jerseys, swag from the colleges Alexis and I went to, and a faded shirt he loved that said Proud Dad of a Bi Daughter.

I didn’t even buy it for him. He bought it himself.

I lifted off the stool and wrapped my dad in a fierce hug.

He lightly patted my back. “Either you really missed me or the scrapple is that good.”

“Scrapple’s real good,” I said through a lump in my throat.

When I sat back down, he had a sheepish look on his face.

“You’re the coolest dad I know. All the kids are saying it.”

“Kathleen says the same thing.” He bobbed his head. “I missed you too, Tab. Feels like you just got here and you’re already about to leave. How many days till you fly off to Texas?”

“Ten,” I said. “Not that I’m counting or anything.”

“Still plenty of time for Kathleen to get you to that boozy book club of hers.”

I snorted, popped another bite of scrapple in my mouth. My dad’s attention landed on the open notebook page I had propped in front of me, full of ideas I’d jotted down.

He tapped the center. “What’s this?”

“Story ideas I’m playing around with.”

“For that hotel?”

I shook my head. “For Tenth Street, actually.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Are you making a movie about South Philly?”