Ashley
The coffee shop was nearly empty on this Tuesday afternoon, just the soft hum of the espresso machine and the snowfalling against the windows.
I'd chosen a corner table, far from prying eyes, when Dad had called asking to meet. His voice had sounded like he was tired and sad.
Now he sat across from me, his hands wrapped around a cup he hadn't touched, and I could see every one of his worry lines etched into his face.
When had he gotten so much gray at his temples? When had those lines around his eyes deepened into crevasses?
"Ashley dear," he started, then stopped. Cleared his throat. Tried again. “I don't know how to begin."
He looked like he was going to shatter. Like one wrong word would break him completely.
"Then just say it, Dad." My voice was gentle.
I wanted to un
