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“It's just a job.”

“If you say so.” She takes a bite of her salad. “But what happens when the job ends? Have you thought about that?”

I haven't. I don't want to.

“We'll go our separate ways. Like adults.”

“Simple as that?”

I clench my jaw. “Simple as that.”

Jen shakes her head. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don't be. I'm fine.”

“And Wren? Is she fine too?”

“Wren’s a professional,” I say.

“Hmm. Alright then.”

“Now, tell me about Derek? Things are going well, you say?”

I change the subject, asking about her boyfriend to shift away from Wren. Jen lets me, but I can tell she's not convinced.

“Better. We’re working on our relationship.” Her mouth curves into a small smile. “He’s more present of late. I don’t know what changed, but it’s good to see.”

My eyes narrow at her. “Is there something more?”

She beams, picking at her fries. “Well…”

“Well?”

“I don’t know what changed, but he’s been talking about marriage a lot in the last few weeks.”

My hands pause mid-air. “Marriage?”

“He’s asking if I want to get married someday. Wonders if my father would give him something other than a hard stare when next he visits,” she says this with a pointed look. “Talking about the number of children we would like to have. I don’t want to think too much of it.”

“That sounds like a man looking to settle down. I’ll tell you that.”

She leans in, a gleam in her eyes. “You think so too, right? I was trying not to get too excited about it before he proposed, but I can’t help myself.”

I lean into my seat. “What about you? You wanna marry this Derek boy?”

She sighs, her shoulders slumping as she considers the question. “Of course, I love Derek. I mean, we’ve had our fair share of issues, but there’s no relationship without issues. Neither of us has done something as terrible and disrespectful to our relationship as cheating. I’d love to marry Derek someday.”

My chest constricts.

It’s hard to believe my daughter is a grown woman and may be getting married soon. To me, she’ll always be my little girl. But she’s a grown woman with her own rugged defiance and ridiculous laughter that she got from her mother. No man would ever be deserving of being her husband. Even sometimes, I’m not sure I am deserving of being her father. Jen is so much smarter, kinder, and altogether a better person than I am. Every day, I wish her mother were alive to see what the tiny bundle of joy she gave birth to has grown to be, all that she’s come to achieve all on her own.

“Dad, are you tearing up?” Jen presses a hand to her mouth, her mouth twitching.

I sniff, rolling my eyes. “That’s not a tear. I’m marveling at this sandwich. Why does it taste extra delicious today?”

She bursts into laughter.

After lunch, I walk her to her car.