April Nardini, now eighteen and in her first semester of college, had always been remarkably healthy. Apart from the occasional cold, she'd barely needed a doctor throughout her childhood. Even Anna, her mother and Luke's former girlfriend, had once joked that April's immune system deserved its own scientific publication. Consequently, Luke had never really needed to play nurse. And with Lorelai, his wife, away on a three-day business trip, he was about to discover just how unprepared he was.

It was Friday afternoon when April arrived at the diner, dragging an overnight bag behind her.

"Hey, Dad!"

Luke looked up from the counter, his face immediately softening.

"Hey, kid. You're early."

"Professor Matthews canceled our last lecture. Something about a conference in Boston."

"Good. Saved you from sitting through another three hours of whatever it is you're studying."

"Molecular biology, Dad."

"Right. That."

April grinned and dropped her bag beside the counter. Luke studied her for a moment.

"You look tired."

"Thanks. You look old."

"Very funny."

"Seriously, though, college is exhausting. I had two exams this week, and my roommate apparently believes that sleep is an optional activity."

"Well, you can catch up on sleep this weekend."

"Actually, I have plans tonight."

Luke sighed.

"Of course you do."

"Sabrina's having a party. A few people from high school are coming home this weekend, and I haven't seen them in forever."

"Right."

April narrowed her eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Dad."

"I said nothing."

She rolled her eyes affectionately.

Despite being eighteen and technically an adult, April was still something of a late bloomer. She had always been more interested in science, books, and academic competitions than dating. While most of her friends had experienced their first kisses years ago, April had never had a serious boyfriend. Luke was perfectly happy with that arrangement. "So," he began, attempting to sound casual, "this party. Boys and girls?"

April stared at him.

"Dad. I'm eighteen."

"Didn't answer my question."

"Yes, Dad. There will be members of both sexes present. Possibly even in the same room."

"Very funny."

She laughed. "Relax. It's just a party."

"Uh-huh."

"And before you ask, yes, Sabrina's parents know about it. No, I'm not planning on getting drunk. And yes, I'll call if I need anything."

Luke nodded, satisfied. He watched her disappear upstairs, smiling to himself. His little girl was growing up. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that.

By six o'clock, Luke had started preparing dinner.

April was sitting at the kitchen table in the apartment above the diner, scrolling through her phone while occasionally checking her reflection in the darkened window. She'd changed into jeans and a blue sweater, her hair falling loosely over her shoulders. Luke noticed that she seemed unusually quiet.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Not hungry?"

"Not really."

"Since when?"

April shrugged.

"Big lunch."

Luke frowned. April usually had an appetite that rivaled his own, especially after a long week at college. He placed a plate of pasta in front of her.

"Eat something anyway."

"Dad, I'm not five."

"Didn't say you were."

She picked up her fork and obediently took a few bites. Ten minutes later, she'd barely touched her food. Luke was about to comment when April shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"You all right?"

"Yeah. Just a stomachache."

"Something you ate?"

"Probably."

She pressed a hand against her lower abdomen.

Luke watched her carefully.

"How long have you had it?"

"Since this afternoon, I guess."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"Because it's nothing."

April attempted another bite of pasta, but almost immediately put her fork down. A wave of nausea rolled through her stomach. She swallowed hard.

Luke noticed.

"April?"

"I'm fine."

"You're looking a little pale."

"Dad, please."

He came around the table.

"Come here."

"Why?"

"Just come here."

She sighed dramatically but stood up.

Luke placed the back of his hand against her forehead. He frowned.

"You're warm."

"It's hot in here."

"It's October."

"You have the stove on."

"April."

"Dad."

He tried her forehead again, then touched her cheek.

"You're definitely warm."

"Okay, maybe a little."

Luke folded his arms.

"You're not going to that party."

April stared at him.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Dad!"

"You're sick."

"I'm not sick!"

"You're pale, you're not eating, and you've got a fever."

"It's probably just stress. I had exams all week."

"Then you need to rest."

April's expression hardened.

"You can't tell me what to do. I'm eighteen."

Luke took a breath.

"You're right. You're eighteen. But you're also sick, and going to a crowded party isn't going to make you feel better."

"I'm not missing this party."

"April—"

"I've been looking forward to it all week!"

"There'll be other parties."

"You don't understand!"

Luke rubbed his forehead.

"Apparently not."

"You suck as a dad!"

The words hung between them. April immediately looked as though she regretted them, but she was too upset to apologize.

Instead, she turned and hurried toward the small guest bedroom Luke and Lorelai had created for her when they'd renovated the apartment.

The door slammed. Luke stood motionless for a moment.

"Great," he muttered. "Just great."

Twenty minutes later, Luke knocked on April's door.

"April?"

No answer.

"Kid?"

Still nothing. He opened the door a crack.

April was curled up on her side, facing the wall. She'd changed into an oversized T-shirt and sweatpants, and her party clothes lay abandoned on the chair. Luke approached cautiously.

"Hey."

"Go away."

"Come on, April."

"I'm not going to the party. You got what you wanted."

Luke sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

"That's not what I wanted."

She didn't answer.

"I wanted you to have a nice weekend. I wanted you to see your friends. But not if you're feeling lousy."

April sniffled.

"I never get sick."

"I know."

"And the one time I actually have plans..."

Her voice broke.

Luke felt a familiar pang of helplessness.

He could fix a broken toaster, rebuild an engine, and run a diner during the busiest breakfast rush imaginable. But he had absolutely no idea what to do with a crying eighteen-year-old daughter.

"Hey," he said gently. "Look at me."

April reluctantly turned around.

Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were watery. Luke brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

"You're really not feeling good, are you?"

April shook her head.

"My stomach hurts."

"Still?"

"Yeah."

"Bad?"

She hesitated.

"Kind of."

Luke touched her forehead again. She felt hotter than before.

"Okay. Hang on."

He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a thermometer. April groaned.

"Seriously?"

"Humor me."

She accepted it and slipped it beneath her tongue.When it beeped, Luke examined the display.

"101.8."

April blinked.

"Fahrenheit?"

"Yeah."

"That's...38.9 Celsius."

"Thanks, Professor."

She managed a weak smile. Luke looked considerably less amused.

"Okay. You're staying in bed."

"Apparently."

"Do you need anything? Water? Tea? Soup?"

"No."

"Another blanket?"

"I'm hot."

"Right."

He stood up, then sat down again.

"Are you nauseous?"

"A little."

"Have you thrown up?"

"No."

"Diarrhea?"

"Dad!"

"What? It's a legitimate question!"

"Can we please not discuss my digestive system?"

"Fine."

Luke looked around the room.

He had absolutely no idea what came next.

Should he give her medicine? Make her drink something? Call a doctor? Was a fever of 101.8 dangerous? Should he take her to the hospital?

He'd been a father for years, but this was unfamiliar territory. For the first time since April had come into his life, he desperately wished someone else were there to tell him what to do.

Lorelai. Of course.

Lorelai answered on the fourth ring.

"Hello, handsome! Missing me already?"

"Lorelai."

"Wow. That sounded serious. Did Taylor finally declare war on the diner?"

"April's sick."

There was a brief pause.

"Oh. How sick?"

"She's got a fever. Almost 102. Her stomach hurts, she's nauseous, and she barely ate dinner."

"Okay. How long has she been feeling bad?"

"Since this afternoon, apparently."

"And how is she now?"

"In bed. Miserable. Angry at me."

"Ah. So basically a teenager."

"Lorelai."

"Sorry. Sorry. I'm listening."

Luke lowered his voice.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Lorelai's tone softened immediately.

"Luke."

"I'm serious. She's never been sick when she's stayed with me. Not once. I don't even know what medicine we have in the house."

"Okay. First, you don't have to know everything."

"She's eighteen, Lorelai. I should know how to take care of my own daughter."

"And you are taking care of her."

"I'm standing around asking stupid questions while she's lying there feeling awful."

"Welcome to parenting."

Luke sighed.

"What do I do?"

"Well, first, make sure she has water. Check whether she can keep fluids down. And because she's got a fever and abdominal pain, you should call a medical professional tonight rather than just assuming it's a stomach bug."

Luke straightened.

"You think it's serious?"

"Not necessarily. But abdominal pain and fever aren't something to guess about. Especially if the pain gets worse or settles on one side."

"Okay."

"And ask her exactly where it hurts."

"She already thinks I'm interrogating her."

"Then interrogate gently."

"Very helpful."

"That's why you married me."

Luke rubbed his face.

"I wish you were here."

There was another pause.

"I know, honey."

He looked toward April's closed bedroom door.

"She's never needed me like this before."

Lorelai smiled sadly at the other end of the phone.

"Then maybe tonight's your chance."

When Luke returned to the bedroom, April was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, kid."

"Hi."

He placed a glass of water on the bedside table.

"How's the stomach?"

"Still hurts."

"Can you tell me where?"

April placed her hand across her lower abdomen.

"Mostly here."

"More on one side?"

She considered the question.

"Maybe the right. I don't know."

Luke's concern increased.

"Okay."

"Why?"

"Just trying to figure things out."

April studied his expression.

"Dad, you're doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing where you pretend you're calm, but your forehead gets all wrinkly."

"My forehead is always wrinkly."

"True."

He sat beside her.

"Listen, I called Lorelai."

April's eyes widened.

"You called Lorelai because I have a stomachache?"

"Because you've got a fever and you're hurting."

"Oh my God."

"She's got more experience with this stuff than I do."

April looked away.

"Mom would know what to do."

The words were quiet, almost whispered.

Luke felt them more deeply than he'd expected.

"Yeah," he said after a moment. "She probably would."

April immediately looked guilty.

"I didn't mean—"

"It's okay."

"No, Dad, I just..."

Her eyes filled with tears again.

"I don't feel good."

Luke's expression softened.

"I know, sweetheart."

"And I miss Mom."

"Of course you do."

April wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"It's stupid. I'm eighteen. I'm in college. I shouldn't be crying because I want my mom."

Luke shook his head.

"Hey. There's no age limit on that."

She looked at him.

"Really?"

"Really."

He hesitated, then added, "And for the record, you're allowed to want your dad, too."

April gave a watery little laugh.

"Even when he's being annoying?"

"Especially then."

She shifted closer to him.

Luke instinctively put an arm around her shoulders.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then April rested her head against his chest.

"I'm sorry I said you suck as a dad."

Luke kissed the top of her head.

"Yeah, well. I've been called worse."

"By Taylor?"

"Mostly."

She smiled.

Luke held her a little tighter.

He'd missed so many years of being her father. The scraped knees, the childhood illnesses, the bedtime stories, the countless ordinary moments that other parents took for granted.

He couldn't get those years back.

But he could be here now.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you stay for a little while?"

Luke looked down at his daughter.

Eighteen years old. A college student. Brilliant, independent, and usually determined to prove she didn't need anyone looking after her.

Yet right now, she was curled against him like a little girl.

"Sure, sweetie."

He reached for his phone with his free hand.

"First, though, we're calling the doctor about that stomach pain."

April groaned.

"Dad..."

"Nonnegotiable."

She sighed.

"Okay."

And as Luke settled beside her, preparing to make the call, he realized something.

He might never become the kind of father who always knew exactly what to do.

But he could become the kind who stayed.

And perhaps that was a pretty good start.