He was already there when I arrived, a cup of java and a bran muffin waiting for me. It should be noted, I only drink coffee with tons of filler, namely syrups and pumps and slivered whatnots, plus a dollop of whipped cream. Never black. Not ever. As for bran muffins…really? With everything to choose from, bran muffins?
Dad smiled and motioned for me to have a seat. I did so, staring at my bland coffee and even blander muffin. I glanced briefly and longingly at the Java Chip Frappuccino at the table next to us. “Thanks, Dad. You shouldn’t have.” Seriously. Shouldn’t.
He smiled. “Least I could do.” Seriously. Least. “I mean, it’s usually your mother who treats you.”
I grinned. “Treat might not be the optimal word. Trust me, I pay.” And then some.
His smile widened. “Gotcha.” He took a s
