She had turned on iTunes and set it to shuffle. Some might have found it odd to hear Bad Company, then Sara Bereilles, followed by John Coltrane, but ...he liked it. She put her book aside and pushed herself up, trying but failing to stifle a groan of pain and irritation as she did. She used the arm of the couch to push herself up, got her crutches, and went over to turn off the music. Normally she would have used a quiet evening to work on her own music, but the ache in her leg made it difficult. I sighed and nodded, reluctantly nodded.“Inside, I nodded toward the kitchen. “Beer.” He looked surprised. Well, I was thirsty. I rolled to the table and waited. He was back in half a minute.“It is what it is. You’re her daddy not me. I’m resigned to it,” I said.“But you’ve got it wrong,” he said.“Really. I’m her father not you and she, they, were celebrating Father’s Day with you. Kinda hard to get that one wrong.”“But you managed to do it,” he said.“Okay?” I said, waiting.“They planned,. More

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