He looked shocked to see me standing behind Phoebe. I thought that I couldn't blame him, that he probably hadn't expected me to look like I did.

While both of my parents were Japanese, my mother's mother had been American. While mother hadn't resembled her, I had inherited so much, I was practically her clone. I had her gentle but lush curves, her white hair that people always said looked like moonlight, and her dark blue eyes, though mine were flecked with silver.

As a result of that, Phoebe with her rich chestnut hair and dancing brown eyes, looked far more likely to be his daughter than I did.

Despite that, when my father heard me, he smiled and stepped forward as if to hug me. Ironically, it was that gesture that made the numbness that had plagued me begin to recede, and as I stepped back, I began to feel again. And so I said, "What are you doing here?"

He sighed, "I'd prefer not to talk about this outside. Would it be okay if we came inside?"

He spoke to me in Japanese, rather than the horrid English he had with Phoebe. I still remembered that Mom had always teased him about being a constant traveler, but being terrible with languages.

Despite that, I wondered if he had devolved to the point that he couldn't even speak Japanese properly. That is, until I looked behind him and saw the two men. There appearance surprised even Phoebe, letting me know that I wasn't the only one who hadn't noticed them until then. Surprising, given how gorgeous the two of them were.

They were both tall. The first man had messy brown hair and kind eyes, giving off the impression of a gentle father figure. The second man however, had golden hair and eyes, and exuded the aura of a playboy, almost like he would flirt with any woman who moved.

Their appearance shocked both of us, but it was Phoebe who spoke first.

"Who the hell are they?"

My father looked surprised as well, hearing Phoebe speak in Japanese. She still had an accent, but the fact that she spoke so fluently was uncommon. Actually, it was a result of our friendship. Even after we moved here, Mom and I still spoke Japanese at home, and when Phoebe came over, she listened to us. As a result, we both attained the ability to speak the language fluently, though Phoebe only used Japanese when we were saying things we didn't want others hearing, or, apparently, when her best friend's absentee father suddenly shows up on her doorstep.

Despite his surprise, my father still spoke calmly, saying, "They are part of what I wanted to discuss with you. May we come in?"

I could tell that Phoebe wanted to protest, but I just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, so I invited them all into the kitchen.