30
Tyla
I sat in Laila’s room and watched her change into a million different outfits. “I don’t think he’s going to care what you wear,” I said.
She held up a dark, navy sweater to her chest and looked in the mirror. “I just want him to like me.”
“He’s your father. Of course he’s going to like you.”
She tossed the sweater onto the bed and grabbed a cream colored one, slipping it over her head. “I’ve rehearsed what I was going to say over and over last night, and none of it sounds good. Knowing me, I’ll walk right up to him and forget my name. It’s not every day you meet your father.”
I pulled her hair out from underneath the sweater and faced her. “You’ll do fine, I promise. Now let’s get going.”
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and nodded. “I can do this.”
We walked out o
