I’ve been wearing a goofy smile on my face the whole day.

Getting laid sure does wonders for my mood—it doesn’t always do that, but with Piper, everything’s amazing.

I open the door. “Hi, Dad. What’s up?”

He has called me to his office, although he hasn’t told me what for. This is unusual. Normally, he’s too busy to even sit down with me during office hours.

Things are looking up now. I’ve been killing it at work, accomplishing things that aren’t even part of my job description.

Some of my latest achievements? I’ve convinced some high-value clients to bank with us, convincing them that we’re always going to roll out the red carpet for them. That’s one of the big advantages of working with a relatively small, local bank.

Maybe Dad’s about to let me take on some additional responsibility, just like we discussed after the anniversary party on the island. If things keep going this well, I should be back where I was before the arrest ruined everything.

“Take a seat. We need to talk.” Dad wears a serious expression. This already doesn’t look like the kind of conversation I thought we’d be having.

“What’s wrong?” I sit down on the chair across the desk from him. I wonder if anything has happened to someone in the family. My heart starts to beat faster.

“Take a look at this.” Dad pulls out a black folder from the stack of documents on his desk and puts it in front of me.

His desk always looks messy because he refuses to store his documents in the cloud like I tell him to. It always amazes me how he knows exactly where everything is.

“Okay…” I’m getting weird vibes already, but there’s only one way to find out what’s going on.

Dad watches me intently, leaning forward over his desk with his hands clasped together.

I wonder if these are the documents related to the new clients I just signed up. Maybe there are some administrative errors to fix.

I flip open the folder to find some pictures clipped to the top of the first page of whatever document is inside.

My first thought is, who prints out pictures anymore? It’s been so long since I see an actual printed photo.

Then, I take a closer look.

It’s Piper.

Piper on every single one of the photos.

Piper walking into her apartment building, Piper walking out of her apartment building, Piper sitting down at a coffee shop with a girl I don’t know, Piper sitting down at a different coffee shop with a guy I don’t know.

Piper isn’t looking at the camera in any of these photos. It doesn’t look like she’s even aware that someone’s taking her pictures.

“What are these?” I frown. I don’t appreciate someone following Piper around. That seems creepy and cowardly, and I’ve never known my dad to be a creep or a coward. With a louder voice, I ask, “Who took these?”

“A PI,” Dad answers.

“A fucking PI, Dad? What the fu…” I pause and take a deep breath before I say something I regret. “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t do that. Someone else did that, but I’m glad they did.”

They? He’s not even going to let me know if this person is male or female? Why is he protecting “them”?

“Why?” I ask through gritted teeth, afraid something cruel would escape my mouth if I said too much.

“Well, you know how hard it is for people in our position to make genuine connections, genuine relationships. And I think this person was concerned about you.”

“It’s Miranda, isn’t it?” I ask. When Dad only shrugs, I know I’ve guessed correctly.

Fucking Miranda.

I close the folder and drop it on the desk. It lands with a dull sound. It disturbs the air enough to make a few strands of Dad’s dark hair float for a few seconds. His expression remains the same.

“You’re not going to see the rest of it?” Dad asks.

“No. This is disgusting. Why would you spy on my fiancée like that?”

“You still maintain that she’s your fiancée?”

“Of course. What else would she be?” We’re officially seeing each other, so this is not even a complete lie. We are an actual couple. She’s mine for real now.

“Okay. If you looked at the other things in that folder, you would’ve understood why I doubt that’s the case.” Dad speaks in a calm voice. On the surface, he doesn’t appear to be angry at all. But I know him enough to deduce that he’s actually furious. “Piper’s not really your fiancée, is she?”

“She is,” I insist. I don’t know what’s in the folder, and maybe I should’ve checked, but I’ve never been one to think before I act. Right now, I don’t see any way to fix the situation than to stick to my original story.

“Okay, then explain to me why she’s living in your rental apartment studio.”

“Can’t my fiancée also be my tenant?”

“Sure she can. But in that case, she wouldn’t be dealing with your property manager, would she? She’d be dealing with you directly.”

“The whole reason why I have that apartment in the first place is because you told me I need to put a small investment into something and learn the skills I need to run a business. I used a property manager because hiring and delegation are important parts of running a business. I’m sure you’d agree.”

“You’re right. I’d agree with that. But that doesn’t explain why you’d tell your property manager to evict your fiancée when she failed to pay the rent,” Dad says, raising his eyebrows.

Damn. Teresa sold me out? I did fire her, but for her to tell a random PI the details of our interaction… That’s unprofessional.

On second thought, though, I don’t know why I’m surprised. I’ve never known her to act professionally at all.

“I wanted to test my property manager,” I say with a casual shrug. “I wanted to see what she’d do if things were to go wrong, so I told Piper to stop paying rent to see what would happen.”

“I see.”

“I wouldn’t have let her do it for real.”

“Okay.”

“My property manager ended up completely dropping the ball on me. I couldn’t reach her at all, and she never started the eviction process, even after a whole month of non-payment. So I fired her,” I say. “I made an executive HR decision. Boom. Business skill learned, just like you wanted.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s the kind of lesson I had in mind,” Dad says.

“Sometimes you get to a destination without following the original route.”

I got this. I can tell Dad is buying this story. I can totally get through this.

“Okay. Then, who’s the guy she’s meeting up with in that picture? They look pretty close,” Dad says.

“I don’t know. He could be a friend from one of her classes. I have no idea because I don’t stalk her, Dad. She’s my fiancée; not my hostage.”

I’m a little proud of myself for having come up with all these details on cue and under pressure. A tip from a pro if you want to bullshit your way out of trouble: the best lies contain a little bit of truth in them.

“Okay, well, we know who that guy is, because the PI talked to him. He said he’s her ex-boyfriend and he was giving her something she’d left in his apartment,” Dad says.

“So what? She’s not allowed to have a past?” I ask in a casual tone, even though my chest tightens at the thought of Piper with another man.

Evidently, she has never slept with him. But just thinking about her and the guy hanging out at his apartment alone makes me burn up with jealousy. Strange—I don’t usually get jealous.

“She is. I just never expected that past to be so recent,” Dad says. “The pictures were taken some time within the past week. And, according to the boyfriend, they broke up a few months ago.”

“Okay,” I say, as if I already know all these new details Dad’s telling me. “And?”

“Don’t you think a few months after a break-up is too soon to get engaged with someone new?”

“Obviously, no,” I say. “You’re the one who always tells me that ‘when you know, you know.’”

Dad pauses and scrutinizes me. “Okay, I apologize for having breached your fiancée’s privacy. I have to say, though, son, these findings have raised a few red flags for me.”

“So we’re moving a little fast. That doesn’t make what we have any less genuine,” I say. “If you still doubt that we’re an item, call Marie in Paris and ask her about the way Piper was screaming my name when we spent the whole day in the bedroom. Or ask your PI about who has been spending every single night at Piper’s apartment lately. Ask him if he heard those same screams, too.”

I get up, letting the swivel chair roll backward on its little wheels. Dad looks away like he always does when I start to share too much information. This tactic is useful for when I don’t want to get more questions. I see it’s still effective now, although I haven’t used it in a while.

“If you’ll excuse me, Dad, I have some work to do.” I turn around and march out of his office.

I may have done some damage. I probably won’t be getting a promotion any time soon. But, given the situation, that was the best I could’ve done.

It’s probably not the best time to finish the discussion anyway. We’re both too worked up, even if Dad’s poker face doesn’t show it.

I’m on a high from having narrowly escaped getting tangled up in my own lie.

But all I can think of is that guy.

That fucking guy whom Piper saw within the past week.

What the fuck?

She says, time and time again, that she’s mine.

But maybe she’s the one who’s been lying to me this whole time.