Given my progress, I might allow myself a slightly longer lunch.
My nose is in my phone all the way to the restaurant as I look up the information I need for the next model. Surprisingly, I don’t bump into too many people.
Dad is waiting outside the restaurant.
He has no aura.
I don’t know if I should be disappointed or relieved.
Tall and dressed in a bespoke suit, my dad looks great for a seventy-seven-year-old and can probably pass for someone ten years younger. Then again, his “youthful” looks aren’t how he ended up married to Wife 2.0, who’s in her forties. Dad owns a very successful tech company that makes 3D printers, and Mom’s replacement is probably a gold digger—though truth be told, his money might’ve been why Mom married him as well.
“Hey, kiddo,” he says with his signatur
