I became great friends with Daley over the following years, becoming closer and closer almost each week. We went to concerts together, we went out to eat, we partied, we hung out on campus and yes, we did finally fix my motorcycle (someone had packed it with old newspaper and dirt and then we found out it had not only happened to me, but four other people owning motorcycles). Then came the one year I took Daley up to meet Daddy.

            "I have to tell you something," I announced to Daley as we drove up to Seattle one weekend during senior year for my ritual visit, "before you meet my father."

            "He knows I'm coming, right?" Daley put his finger in his book to mark his place. He had the rare ability to read in the car without getting nauseous.

            "Of course. But…I have to warn you so you don't go all AWOL or scared or anything."

            "Why would I be scared? Seriously, Maxine, what's up?"

            "My father's in a wheelchair," I blurted, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. "He was shot near the spine back in 2019 and it paralyzed him from the waist down."

            Daley was quiet for a minute. "I guess I should admit to you that my sister's in a wheelchair, too."

            "Samantha? The one who plays basketball and sings and is always on the phone? Your sister Samantha?" I was a bit surprised.

            "I didn't want to tell you either," Daley admitted. "But I guess there's nothing to be afraid of now."

We exchanged private smiles as we approached Foggle Towers.

"Here goes nothing," I sighed, pulling into the parking lot. Daddy's Aztec was where it always was, still looking like it hadn't been washed since the Pulse.

Daley held my hand in his as we rode the elevator up to Daddy's penthouse. He could sense I was nervous. I very rarely had friends to bring home to meet him—aside from Gina, Nikka, Ro McClintock and Mavoureen Limon, I didn't really have many friends, especially guy-friends. The elevator stopped with a ding.

"Ready to meet the phenomenon that is Logan Cale?" I teased Daley.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he squeezed my hands and we stepped out of the elevator.

"Daddy!" I called. "We're here! Unlock yourself from your office!"

"He locks himself in his office?" Daley whispered to me.

"No," I replied. "But he spends so much time in there he might as well."

As we waited for Daddy, Daley eyed the penthouse, letting out some whistles here and there in a mild reaction. I knew he felt a little funny seeing all these pictures of Mom that Daddy had everywhere.

"I can't tell who's you and who's your mother," Daley revealed. "You really do look mirror image. How old was she when she died? You never told me."

"Twenty-nine," I whispered. "Do me a favor and don't let him know I told you. He gets real emotional about her, still, even after twenty-one years."

"Well, Maxine," Daddy said with a slight smirk on his face as he wheeled into the room. He looked Daley up and down, surprised when he didn't have a shocked look on his face, seeing that he was in a wheelchair. "Let's meet this guy you've been raving about."

I took a deep breath, put on a pleasant smile and said, "Daddy, this is my very good friend—"

"Andrew Dale Westlight," Daley announced, using his full name, surprising me. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Cale." He stuck out his hand in greeting and Daddy shook it. "Maxine's told me so much about you and with much gusto."

"Uh, well," Daddy raised an eyebrow. That was a good sign—it usually meant he was impressed. "I can believe that. Maxine and I have always been close, considering my wife passed away early in her life."

"I understand," Daley said. "And I must say I'm overwhelmed with your art collection."

"You study art?" Daddy wheeled a bit closer and sat back in his chair. I noticed he had actually managed to dress up a little in one of his nicer shirts and slacks.

"Art history. It's my minor."

"Interesting," Daddy gave me a knowing look. The look in his eyes told me, you have yourself a good catch, Maxine.

To my surprise (and probably Daley's too), the two most important men in my life got along famously. Daley was impressed with Daddy's computer collection and modern technology gadgets and the latest gear. Daddy was interested in Daley's artistic knowledge and took him around the penthouse and compared notes about every painting we owned while I trailed behind them with the broom, keeping everything clean.

            "Really, Daddy," I huffed when we had a minute alone together. I had sent Daley out to gather our things from the car. "You should hire a cleaning lady. I'm only here every other weekend."

            "I don't like the idea of people lurking around my house," Daddy protested. "When Mom was alive, it didn't really matter."

            "Because all of them were genetically engineered transgenics who wouldn't hurt a fly?" I said sardonically and winked.

            "Well, in one way or another," Daddy returned the joke. He squeezed my knee with affection. "I like this kid, Maxine. I really do."

            I paused for a moment before responding. "I'm glad," I said finally. "Because…I think I love him."

            Daddy blinked in surprise and then his face broke into a wide grin. He tugged at a curl. "I can't say I've never wanted a son, Maxine, especially when Mom was pregnant for the first time. But you know the old saying about Daddy's girl."

            I turned scarlet slightly. "I'll…you know no matter what happens, I'll always be your little Daddy's girl. I always have been."

            "Hey, don't think I don't know that. Heck, I knew before you were born that you would be my Daddy's girl."

            I laughed. "What if I was a boy?"

            "I guess I'd still love you…by a long shot," he teased and gave a long sigh. "What would I do without you? Genuinely, Maxine, do you know how many times I ask myself that? 'What would I do without my little Maxine?'"

            "A lot," I smiled.

            "Oh, more than a lot. Try every time I watch you leave. I think to myself, now where would I be without this Earth Angel? She spoils me so. Who makes sure Daddy eats right? Who makes sure Daddy's house is clean? Who makes sure Daddy takes his medicine?"

            "Who makes sure Daddy doesn't die of loneliness?"  I smiled softly. Daddy shook with laughter, trying to hold it in.

            "I know you're trying to be serious, but I can't help but chuckle," he admitted. "Sorry."

            "It's okay," I widened my grin and we embraced.

            As we parted, Daddy brushed a stray curl behind my ear and I knew he was thinking about my mother. Was there ever a time when he wasn't when he looked at me? "Well," Daddy sighed. "I must say, after having a little girl of my own, I have something even better to look forward to in the future."

            "Oh yeah?" I propped my head up in my palms and rested my elbows on my knees. "What's that?"

            Daddy smiled at me with laughter in his eyes, "Why, granddaughters, of course."