Pan laughs with him, moving around the chair so that she can sit on it with him. She’s more half on his lap and half on the arm of it.
She wishes she could tell him why she was home, but Bea had forbade it. Papa didn’t need to know about the baby until they couldn’t hide it anymore. She understood but she wanted to tell him because she’s sure he’d be happy for her. He’d want her to be in love. “I love you just the way you are Papa,” she says sweetly, tucking her head beneath his chin.
Roscoe’s smile is sloppy from lack of sleep, tears, and drunkenness. He nods at his wonderful daughter and allows her to get up without fuss. He knows he doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment. Instead of staying seated, he gets up slowly and stumbles after her to find a seat in the kitchen.
“How are your chagri doing?” he asks as he leans down on his elbow. Maybe he didn’t know what else to talk about, but it didn’t really matter as long as they were happy.
