Nina:

My dad calls me on Friday out of the blue. “I hear your building is up for sale,” he says after a brief exchange of pleasantries.

“It is.” I’ve been expecting him to call all week about this. It cost a hundred thousand dollars to set up the Merry Cockatoo, and without the start-up loan my father gave me, I’d have never been able to open my bar. I’ve paid back some of the money, but I still owe him sixty thousand dollars. I’m convinced he’s freaking out about Dr. Bollington’s decision to put my building on the market. “No offers so far, so that’s a relief.”

“I’m sure you’re on top of the situation.” He clears his throat. “I must admit, Nina, that I had a lot of misgivings about loaning you the money. You were living like a nomad, shacking up with those two musicians, and I knew I had to do something to intervene. I didn’t think you’d make a go of your bar, but I was wrong. You’ve persisted with it, and I’m proud of you.”

It’s not news to me that my dad disapproves of Scott and Zane. I mean, come on. What father, no matter how distant, wants his daughter in a threesome with two musicians?

His praise, on the other hand, takes me by surprise. “Thank you,” I say stiffly, not knowing how to respond. “I appreciate you saying that.”

“Yes, well…” His voice trails off, and he seems just as uncertain as I am. An awkward silence grows between us.

The truth is, when you’re a teenager, you see the world in black or white. There are no shades of gray. My father slept with someone when my mother was in hospital, and I held that against him. He married Joanne only a few months after mom’s death, and I judged him harshly.

As an adult, I’m more tolerant. My dad was there for every one of mom’s hospital appointments. His wife was dying, and his daughter was grieving, and he was only human. I can understand now why he might seek comfort in the arms of another woman, in a way that I couldn’t when I was thirteen.

“Joanne was wondering if you’d like to eat lunch with us on Sunday,” he says. “The boys have a basketball tournament in the morning, but we’ll be back home by noon.”

“That’d be nice,” I reply honestly, “but unfortunately I already have plans.” I take a deep breath. I’m not going to tiptoe around the matter; my dad disapproves of Scott and Zane, but he’s going to have to deal with the fact that I’m an adult who can make her own decisions. “Scott and Zane are in New Summit,” I confess. “I’m going to spend the weekend with them.”

He inhales sharply. “Scott and Zane are in New Summit,” he repeats flatly. “Are you thinking of resuming your relationship with them?”

I stare out of the window. It’s started to snow. Soft flurries fall from the sky and coat my backyard with fresh powder, concealing the imperfections of my garden under a pristine white carpet. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t you?” He sounds frustrated with me. “The last time they asked you to travel with them, you quit your job without a second thought. If they ask you again, what are you going to say? No?”

I’ve never been able to say No to Scott and Zane. Never.

“I don’t know, dad, okay? I don’t have all the answers.”

He sighs into the receiver. “Nina,” he says heavily. “I know I don’t have the right to tell you what to do with your life. After your mother died, I wasn’t a perfect parent. I made mistakes. I screwed up. A lot.”

Whoa. My father has never said these words to me. This is the first time he’s admitted he might be somewhat to blame for our troubled relationship.

“But,” he continues, “I still care about you. When you were with those musicians,” he says, his disgust clear in his tone, “you were anchorless, aimless, and drifting. Now, you have a business of your own, one you’ve built from the ground up. Are you ready to give it up?”

No. That’s my first, instinctive thought. I’m not ready to give up the Merry Cockatoo. I can’t run my bar and travel with the Evolving Whistle at the same time. Last year, the band spent most of its time in Europe. Touring is their bread-and-butter. I can’t see them quitting.

My father raises a valid point. Five nights is all I can have. After that, no matter how much I want Scott and Zane to stay, I’ll have to let them go. Our lives are too different, and our needs can’t be reconciled. The three of us aren’t meant to be together. Sometimes, there are no happily-ever-afters.

We end our conversation. I stare out at the snow, and then my phone beeps again. This time, the message is from Scott. Tomorrow. 6 pm, our place?

I stare at it for the longest time. Then I tap out a reply. No.

It’s the first time I’ve said no to Scott and Zane.