Dad thought I didn’t notice. But I did.
The way he lingered on old photos of Mom, the soft look in his eyes when he saw couples holding hands, the quiet sighs over his coffee—it all told me the truth.
He was lonely.
But he wouldn’t do anything about it. So I did.
With a bottle-cap ring and a plan, I began proposing to random women on his behalf. I was fourteen, so most found it cute.
“Will you marry my dad?”
I’d pitch his best traits—his kindness, humor, epic lasagna. But when I mentioned he was a driver, their smiles faded.
What they didn’t know? He owned the company. He just liked driving. Said it kept him grounded.
One woman laughed in my face. That’s when I knew—status mattered more to some than love.
Then came the charity gala.
Dad was invited for his work helping foster kids. While he gave his speech, I scanned the room for potential matches. That’s when I saw her. The redhead who had once mocked us. And now? She was flirting with him.
I jumped in fast.
“Dad, she’s not the one.”
She acted like she didn’t remember me—until I reminded her. Suddenly, she was all charm and fake sweetness.
Then I saw another woman—someone new. Warm smile, familiar spark.
Dad saw her too.
“Billie?” he whispered. Turns out, they had history—real love. Torn apart by disapproval, reunited by chance.
As they caught up, I quietly made my exit.
Mission accomplished.
Later, over ice cream, he laughed. “You were advertising me?”
“Someone had to,” I shrugged.
He looked thoughtful. “I’ll see Billie again. But your mom was the love of my life. That doesn’t change.”
I smiled. “I just want you to be happy, Dad.”
And for the first time in a long time…
Leave a Reply