We chose a small restaurant, no expensive champagne, no exposed jewelry and no people trying to prove how rich they are.
I ordered pasta and a chocolate dessert.
When the note came, my father reached out to his wallet.
“Let me, I said.
Sloane, I’m your father.
I smiled.
- I know. But tonight I want to invite you.
I took out my personal card and sat it on the table.
My dad looked at the card, then looked at me with an amused expression.
I hope you remember your PIN code.
I burst out laughing.
Believe me, Dad. I will never forget this one again.
We paid the bill, then we went out together in the cool air of the evening.
Chicago was shining around us. Cars were passing, people were rushing to their homes, and skyscraper lights were reflected in the windows of the shops.
My dad caught me slightly.
