Page 6 of Mac

Jonathan walked in. “You ready to go?” he asked.

I grabbed my purse. “Yep.”

The drive to the pizza parlor was quieter than usual, and I felt responsible for things becoming somewhat strained between the two of us. I vowed to make an effort to remedy that.

We walked into the restaurant, placed our order at the counter, and found a booth in the corner. We made small talk for a bit, which only made the evening feel that much more awkward. It didn’t help that I was distracted by my mom’s letter too. Jonathan must have noticed as well.

“Everything okay? You seem distant tonight.”

“Um...”

I didn’t know if I was ready to share what I had found out about my father with anyone yet, but this was Jonathan. He had been there for me during every hard time in my life. Maybe he could help me figure out what to do.

“You know that box I grabbed out of my grandmother’s closet?”

He nodded his head, so I continued.

“Well, I opened it today. There was information about my father in there.”

Just then, the server brought the pizza to our table. We thanked him and then I turned back to Jonathan. He was staring at me with wide eyes.

“Well, what did it say?” he asked, our food momentarily forgotten.

I gave a brief explanation. “I have a name and a general idea of where he might be living,” I added, keeping the fact that he could be part of a motorcycle club to myself for now.

Jonathan could be pretty closed-minded about people, one of the things that drove me crazy, so I didn’t think he would be thrilled with that detail. Especially if I decide to meet my father.

“What are you going to do?” he finally asked. I scrutinized him carefully to see if I could figure out what he thought I should do, but his face gave nothing away.

“I’m not sure.” I shrugged, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal.

“He may not have abandoned you, but you’ve managed to get this far without him,” he said, somewhat dismissively, as he began diving into the pizza. “Maybe it would be best to leave well enough alone.”

I didn’t meet Jonathan’s eyes when they swept over me. “Maybe,” I murmured, wishing he’d said the exact opposite and knowing it wasn’t a matter ofifI’d meet my father, butwhen.