42.

I drove us home to the little white house, which should have been dark save for the porch light, but the kitchen was lit too, and through the window we looked in on my father, who was reading a newspaper in his red-and-blue plaid bathrobe. Must have been well after three in the morning and there’s my father as if it’s time for breakfast.

So that’s how Tess had found me at the bar. My father in on the plan, in on the surprise. My father waiting up to make sure all had gone as it should have.

There in the honey light of our little kitchen I put my hand on the hard small of her back and said, “Dad, this is Tess.”