But I have to ask again, “She’s stopped harassing you? It helped?” Ryke nods in confirmation. “Yeah, she did stop,” my dad says. “It’s helped.” Clear as day, appreciation pools in eyes. “You both shouldn’t have had to do that, but I’m selfishly happy you did. Thank you.” We nod, and my dad hugs Farrow. When he embraces me, my dad pats my back for an extended beat, and we hold on longer while he whispers, “I love you, bud, and I’m grateful for you every goddamn day. And I can’t wait to see you marry the man of your dreams.” It’s a phrase that stays with me. Man of your dreams.
