The Heart Principle (The Kiss Quotient, #3)

by Helen Hoang

With one last smile at me and a silent glance at my dad, he leaves, and I’m alone with my dad. It feels like good-bye as I sit there with him. I hold his hand. I look at his sleeping face, which looks like him, but not him. I remember our times together. He used to be an engineer at an international semiconductor company and was out of the country for most of my childhood, but he always tried to be there for the big moments in my life—opening concerts, graduation, et cetera. He made an effort to be there for small moments, too, even though he was gone so often, and looking back, those were more important. He wanted to know what I was interested in. He always wanted to see me when he came home. He quietly checked up on me when I got in trouble with my mom and often defended me, even though he was scared of her, too. I miss his full-bodied laugh. I miss his dry humor. I miss his crotchety stubbornness. I am afraid, very afraid, that those parts of him, the parts that differentiate him from everyone else, the essential parts of him, are gone forever.