Knowing that I might as well finally tell him what happened, I take a drink of the beer he placed in front of me before answering him. “I caught him screwing the maid,” I blurt out, wincing at my bluntness.

The fork he picked up drops again and the sound clangs throughout the silent room. His hands brace the table as he scoots his chair back, his strong forearms flexing against the hard oak. He meets my gaze and his jaw clenches, twitching slightly in what I’m guessing is anger.

“You caught him doing what?” he asks gruffly, as if he didn’t hear me correctly the first time.

Toying with the beer bottle, I drop my eyes to the table before looking up to catch him watching me intently. “You heard me the first time. I walked in on him screwing another woman.”

“That son of a bitch. I’m going to kill him,” Dad seethes, rising out of his chair. I roll my eyes, having heard the same speech more times than I can count, starting when I was six and the brat next door ripped the heads off of my G.I. Joes.

His braces himself against the table with his fists, his eyebrow furrowing. “Wait… You don’t have a maid. I know you don’t because he was always complaining about how messy you are.”

Clarifying, I relay, with little detail, finding Drew with the woman from the custodial staff. I watch as his face turns red—again, not something new when it comes to the disasters of my love life.

I love my dad. We’re extremely close. But I think he’s been ready to marry me off since I graduated college. It’s his fatherly duty or something like that. Personally, I think he’s using my love life to keep from moving on with his. He’s dated on and off, but he claims he’s never been able to find anyone he loves as much as my mom.

For a long time, he wouldn’t talk much about her until one evening I found him in his office, clutching a glass of scotch in one hand and a photo of her in the other. He wasn’t crying, but I remember being confused by the pained expression in his eyes. I was only five, so the memories are hazy, but I recall watching him from the doorway before seeing one lone tear fall onto the photograph. I’d never seen him that emotional before, so I entered the room and crawled into his lap. Wiping his cheek with my small thumb, I plucked the picture out of his grasp and set it face down on the desk.

“Don’t look at things that make you sad, Daddy,” I told him as I wrapped my arms around his neck. At the time, I had no idea what I was saying, but it seemed to help. He held me close for a few moments while we sat in silence.

Eventually, he pulled me away from him and settled me in on his lap. He picked up the picture and started to speak. “Let me tell you a story,” he said, and I listened intently for the next hour as he told me how they met, how he got her to agree to a first date, and how it was almost love at first sight. Halfway through the story, he carried me into his room, where he pulled out a photo album, one he’d shown me before but never with commentary. After that day, it was like he’d done a one-eighty turn. He started talking more about her, telling me that, although I looked just like him, my personality came from her and that I had her spirit, her heart.

That comment stuck with me for my entire life as I tried my hardest to live up to the woman I never got to know, wanting to make both her and my dad proud, and I think I’ve done a pretty damn good job at it.

“Charlotte Rose Davenport, are you listening to me?” his stern voice asks, breaking through my memories. I glance up at him, giving him a smile as I shrug.

“What’s done is done, Dad. I can handle a lot, but I won’t tolerate cheating. If he can’t keep it in his pants now, how will I ever be able to trust that he’ll be faithful in a marriage? It’s been two months. I’ve processed it. I’m fine, I promise,” I tell him with fake bravado as if I haven’t spent the last two months crying myself to sleep.

I don’t even know if it’s that I’m devastated from the loss of Drew or from the shock of it all. Going from living with someone and planning the rest of your lives together to being single and living temporarily with Lucy with nothing but your movie collection to keep you company wreaks havoc on a girl’s emotional state. But for everyone else, I’m fine. I put on the mask of tough Charlie, the hard exterior portraying that all is well with the state of my heart.

No longer hungry, I get up and take my plate to the counter. Dad comes up behind me, turning me around and pulling me in for a hug. “I’m sorry, Charlie.” I can’t help the giggle that escapes from the phrase he’s loved saying to me over and over through the years. “I always thought those academic types were supposed to be known for their intelligence, but he’s clearly dumber than dirt if he’d step out on you.”

Smiling, I give him a kiss on his cheek before pulling away so I can finish cleaning up the kitchen. “Definitely not the brightest idea he’s ever had. Maybe he’ll learn his lesson for future relationships, because he’s not getting a second chance from me.”

He laughs, knowing that I’ve always been a one-strike type of girl. I have an extremely low tolerance for bullshit, and I don’t like to waste my time. Maybe I just haven’t met the right person who’s worth forgiving, and until recently, I thought that person was Drew. I know deep down there are certain things I can get over if I’m really in love, but infidelity isn’t one of them. I’ll admit that late at night, when I’m alone, I miss him. I miss his closeness; I miss our intellectual discussions on today’s writing compared to classical literature. I loved egging him on by comparing new romance novels to his favorites. He almost had a coronary when I admitted that I hadn’t been able to finish Wuthering Heights. And Jane Eyre? Don’t even get me started.

It’s not completely my fault, and it’s not that I don’t appreciate the love many have for the classics, but I grew up reading Harlequin romance, so I’ll take a sexy Italian billionaire or a rich cowboy over Dorian Gray any day. In that way we were incompatible, but it ended up becoming a running joke between us. I’d pretend to be interested as he discussed his upcoming lectures with me, and he feigned interest when I detailed super steamy scenes to him, hoping to give him inspiration.

I shake my head, trying to wipe the thoughts away. Changing the subject, I inform Dad of my new assignment with the veteran’s volunteer program. As an Army doctor, he understands the importance of helping wounded soldiers, and he’s always been proud of me for the work I do.

“I wonder if it’s anyone I know,” he comments, having seen many wounded soldiers on his operating table since he’s been stationed at Ft. Campbell.

“It’s possible. They didn’t give me his name yet, but I know he had pretty extensive injuries, though I’m not sure what all they entail. He can’t drive, so that’s one of the things I have to do for him. Take him to appointments, things like that. I’m just glad I finally have another assignment. I’ve been going crazy with all my extra free time. Lucy thinks he’ll be a good distraction, but I have no interest in dating, especially not a soldier.”

I have nothing against military guys. I swoon right along with Lucy when we’re out and can pick out the Army hotties just from their tattoos and haircuts. The hard, rugged bodies are definitely a turn-on after spending the last three years with Drew’s lean frame, but past experiences have left me avoiding all relationships with a military man. Things usually always go really well until they meet Dad. It’s not like he sits there cleaning his M4 rifle when they pull up in the drive. It’s just that they go all rigid and “Yes, sir,” “No, sir” to the point of annoyance. The thing is, Dad’s not that kind of Army dad. He respects his position but has never used it to intimidate any of my dates, so when a guy’s personality goes cold upon meeting him, I instantly lose attraction.

“Honey, there’s nothing wrong with dating a soldier. You just need to find one who doesn’t pee his pants when he finds out that the dear old dad you’re bringing him home to is also an Army officer. You find that guy and I’ll show you a guy who can handle you, quirks and all.”

Playfully I slap with him the dishrag in my hand. “I do not have quirks and I don’t need someone special to be able to handle me. I resent that!”

For some reason this makes him laugh at me. “Charlie Davenport, you’ve been stubborn since the day you were born and it’s only increased tenfold since you’ve grown up. I have to say, it doesn’t surprise me that Drew fucked up. I was a little taken aback when you introduced him to me. I never thought he’d be able to hold his own with you.”

“Gee, thanks. Now you tell me. You could’ve saved me a lot of wasted time if you’d enlightened me years ago,” I say sarcastically, knowing he’s right about my stubbornness.

Shaking his head, he disagrees. “And risk the wrath of you telling me to butt out and mind my own business? No, thank you. You probably would’ve been on a plane to Vegas ready to elope if I’d tried to talk you out of that relationship.”

Sighing, I know he’s right, yet again. It’s weird, but he really does know me better than anyone else. However, I still wouldn’t take his advice when it comes to my dating life. He stopped meddling years ago after I threatened to set up a dating profile for him online. Sometimes I still wish he’d go for it. I want to see him happy, but I don’t push the issue as long as he repays the favor.

We talk a little bit more about my volunteering and he tells me stories from the operating room. There’s no more talk about Drew, cheating, or the possibility of a rebound, and for that I’m thankful. Ever since Lucy brought it up, I’ve had a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, wondering what this new guy will look like. I hate the thought and try to push it away, but I can’t stop thinking that a convenient, casual hook-up with a hot soldier may just be what I need.