"I just fucked you. I don't want to hear about how romantic my old man is right now." She buries her face in my shoulder to quiet her laughter. "He was six-years-old when he gave Opal that card." I point out as I run my fingers along her bare shoulder. "That wasn't romance. It's puppy love." "Puppy love?" She's on her elbows, her chin resting in her hands. "She kept that card with her forever because she still loved him. That's not puppy love, Noah." I know it's not. I've seen Opal and my dad together at least four times since she fell and broke her hip. They're living together in my place in Boston. I told him I'd hire a nurse to care for her after her surgery, but he wouldn't hear of it. He's been tending to every single one of her needs since that night he walked into her hospital room. They love each other. They might have been pulled apart when they were twelve-years-old because her family moved to Europe for six years, but whatever bond was forged between them when they were kids, is stronger than ever now.
