“I got a call from a friend at the police department,” Daddy says, as soon as I walk in my parents’ front door to the annual holiday party we throw for people who work for our family. It’s one of my favorite traditions, probably because I’m the one who suggested it back when I was in high school.

No “hello.” No hug. Straight to business, as always.

News travels fast through the grapevine. I actually thought I’d hear from him the day after it happened, but it’s more his style to wait until he sees someone in person. He loves confrontation. He loves intimidation. He knew I’d never miss this gathering.

“Well, hello to you too, Daddy.” I lean over and kiss his cheek.

“You got a ticket?” he asks.

“I did, yes. The officer said it was for speeding, but I wasn’t speeding,” I say, as I hang my gorgeous new jacket in the hall closet. Before closing the door, I give it one last look. Stella Carney, one of the designers I chose to create a line for the Commons Stores next year, sent it to me for Christmas.

“What do you mean, you weren’t speeding? If you weren’t, why would he say that, Madeline?”

I shrug, then straighten the bow on my black, silk top. “I don’t know, but I wasn’t speeding. I have a video showing that I was going the limit. I’m going to use it in court.”

“You will do no such thing.”

Wait. Is he angry with me? “It’s totally bogus, Daddy! I only got stopped because I was driving Hugo home.”

“Excuse me?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Who’s Hugo?”

I pause. He knows damn well who Hugo is. Instead of take the conversation off track, I answer, “Our landscaper.”

“Why were you driving him home?”

“Erik’s truck broke down, so I picked them up and drove them home.” No need to tell Dad that I drove Erik to my home. Or that we hung out in bed the entire next day. I haven’t even told Mama and Daddy that Erik and I are actually dating now. Sure, they know about our agreement, but I haven’t come clean about our real feelings. But even if I did, they certainly wouldn’t understand him moving in. “That racist cop gave me a ticket for driving with Hugo.”

“You can stop that right now, Madeline.”

“No, Daddy. It’s a farce. It’s also—”

“Stop! Now.”

I close my mouth and glare at Daddy, completely taken aback by his tone. Why is he not concerned by this? I thought he would be on Hugo’s side. He’s always been kind to him.

“You shouldn’t be driving him home, Madeline. I don’t want you in that area.”

“What could I do, Dad? They were stuck.”

“Hugo has friends he can call.”

“Making him wait on friends when I was right here to drive him home doesn’t sound like the kind of thing a good Christian girl would do.”

Daddy glares at me. I know I’ve taken it too far by bringing religion into it, but I don’t care. Mama and Daddy raised us on “good Christian values.” I guess that’s only an option when it’s people who are worthy of it.

“There are multiple options to get home these days. Cab, Lyft, Uber.”

“Limo?” I offer sarcastically.

“I’m not sure why you came here with an attitude, especially when you’re the one who made a poor choice. You have no right to use my name to threaten an officer’s job because you got a ticket and had a hissy fit.”

I roll my eyes, even though I know it’s the most childish way I could possibly react. I imagine the glint of suppressed laughter that would be in Erik’s eyes if he were here to see me react that way.

“If you can’t conduct yourself like a lady, you can leave.”

“Can we get back to the issue, Daddy?”

“I’ve covered the issue.”

“No, the fact that I was pulled over by a racist jerk because I was driving with a Mexican man.”

“You have zero proof of that Madeline.”

“I have video!”

“Does the video prove racism?”

“No, it proves I wasn’t speeding.”

“Then you have nothing.” He lifts a glass decanter off the bar and pours himself two fingers of bourbon.

“Daddy, you’re not getting the point,” I plead. “It was racial profiling.”

He lifts his glass to his lips before saying, “I’ve heard enough.”

“You don’t think it’s wrong?”

“I’m telling you to let it go.” His voice is stern, angry. This is the point where I’ve always backed down. Challenging him isn’t worth his wrath. The only person I know who can hold a grudge longer than Daddy is Mama. “Our guests will be arriving soon.”

“You’re powerful in the community, Daddy. You could do something about it.”

He chuckles. “You think I have far more influence than I really have.”

A mix of emotions swirl in my stomach. I’ve always had him on a pedestal. Far more than Liz or Emily ever did.

I’m the epitome of a daddy’s girl. The one who begged him to take me to every father-daughter dance at the country club—despite there being three of us girls to choose from. The one who always wanted him to play the part of Prince Charming, saving me from ferocious dragons and evil sisters. The one who always trusted his decisions, even when my sisters balked. The one who went into the family business to take after him—and take it over from him.

Suddenly, he doesn’t seem so heroic. I know he has influence. He makes things happen in this city. People respect him. People fear him. Why wouldn’t he back Hugo, a man who has worked with our family for years? We trust him and Anna with absolutely every part of our home. We’ve hosted them for intimate family gatherings throughout the years. He and Anna are like family.

The window over the kitchen sink looks out over our beautifully manicured backyard—the intricate plan of bushes and flowers and trees, on every side of a glittering in-ground swimming pool—the one Erik jumped in to save my life. Erik created the entire plan. He drew it up, modified to my mother’s liking, and put every piece in place with the help of his crew. That was years ago. It looked beautiful when he first did it, but it’s gorgeous now. Everything he imagined has matured and pops when in full bloom. He’s a true artist.

And the kindest person I’ve ever known. True kindness. Not for show or for personal gain. He’s got the sweetest soul.

“I see you differently than you see yourself, Daddy. I’ve seen you use your influence for things you want to get accomplished. Why not use that influence to make a change?”

“I use my so-called influence to make changes every single day, Madeline.”

“Yes, for your business interests and friends. But what do you do for the people who need your influence and voice? The ones who face discrimination and oppression every day?”

“While I feel for Hugo, it’s not my battle, Madeline. You’re asking me to try to dismantle a system you think is broken all of a sudden over a speeding ticket. That’s ridiculous and frankly, quite bratty.”

“This isn’t about a speeding ticket!” I stomp my stiletto against the hardwood floor, sliding right into his brat-depiction of me.

“You have no proof that it’s racial profiling, Madeline. I don’t care what kind of video you have. To accuse an officer, who is putting his life on the line for citizens daily, is disrespectful. I have a good relationship with the police chief and officers, as well as judges and attorneys all over this city. I see people who do the best job they can rather than as a problem that needs to be fixed. As I said, it’s not my battle and it’s not something I’ll waste my time on.”

“It is your battle. It’s all of our battle!” I interject. Daddy’s indifference is part of what keeps the system the way it is. People who have the means to create change sitting back and doing nothing because it doesn’t affect them directly.

There’s a point in every child’s life where we see our parents as human beings rather than superheroes. This is that point for me. Hearing my father say he isn’t willing to do anything—even admit there is an issue—is eye-opening. I’m not saying I’ve agreed with and understood all of his decisions over the years, in our family or business, but I’ve trusted him. I trusted that he made decisions for the right reasons. I trusted the people he chose to do business with.

“I’m not saying I don’t care—” he starts, but I don’t let him finish.

“Have you always been this cold?” I ask. “Have I been so blinded by the pedestal I have you on that I didn’t see what a heartless man you are?”

“What’s gotten into you, Madeline? Since when did you become a crusader for justice?”

Since I almost died by the hands of someone he trusts.

That’s what I want to say, but I hold my tongue. If I speak, I might break down.

“Are you finished with your fit?” Daddy takes another sip of his drink. “Because I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

“All these years, I thought I could trust you. I thought you cared about all these people you claim to help.”

“I will not have my daughter question my integrity. You can talk that way to your sisters or your friends, but you will not talk that way to me. Is that understood, Madeline?”

“Yes, sir.” Mocking respect is all I have to give right now.

While I agree it was disrespectful to lash out at Daddy, I won’t lie and say I’m sorry I did it. Maybe I’ve never been a crusader for justice before, but it doesn’t mean I can’t change. All it takes is for people to start standing up for what’s right.

Like Erik did for me. After I realized I could trust him, it allowed me to open up about my relationship with Trent. If he hadn’t fished me out of that pool, I’m sure I would have followed the path set for me and stayed with Trent.

Well, that’s assuming I’d be alive if he hadn’t fished me out.

What’s gotten into me?

Erik.

“Trent pushed me into the pool and left me for dead. Trent pushed me into a window at my apartment. I had a concussion and a gash that I lied to everyone about. Trent used to squeeze my arms so hard, he left finger-shaped bruises behind that I had to find a way to cover—outside and in here.” I tap my temple. “Trent manipulated me physically and emotionally for years. He still tries to. And you let it all happen. You set it up. You continue to make me interact with him, because of business and your friendships and contracts with the Old Boys’ network.”

“If all of that happened, why didn’t you say anything, Madeline? After the pool incident, you swore up and down to your mother that it was an accident. You said you slipped and fell. Do you see how hard it is to believe that now, you’re telling the ‘truth,’” Daddy asks, using air quotes when he says the word truth.

“Erik saw exactly what happened,” I whisper, choking back emotion. “Erik saw exactly what Trent did and he ran to the pool, jumped in, and dragged me out.”

Daddy’s hard gaze softens slightly. He might actually be listening now.

“Erik believed me. Erik let me open up about all the abuse. Erik helped me heal.”

“Just how close have you and Erik gotten in this fake relationship, Madeline?” Daddy’s voice booms.

So, that’s what made him listen. He wasn’t softened, listening to the horrible things Trent did to me or by the heroic actions Erik took. He’s listening because I mentioned Erik.

And I’m about to drop the biggest bomb of all—just for spite. I wasn’t planning on telling them Erik moved in, but now, after this conversation, I have no choice. I want them to know how much I love him and that Erik is a better man than Trent will ever be.

“He moved in with me last month,” I admit quietly.

An audio engineer on a movie set couldn’t have planned the timing of sound more perfectly than the glass crashing onto the edge of the marble sink in Daddy’s den when he dropped his drink.

Mama rushes into the room. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Hi, Mama,” is my response. I know I’ve just shocked my father beyond measure. Out of anyone in our family, I’m the last person Daddy would ever think would go against the grain and fall in love with someone outside of our social circle. I’m the one who loved living in the world my parents created. I’m the one who—

“Good evening, Madeline.” Her eyes bounce between me and Daddy, as if watching a tennis match. “What happened, Harris?”

Daddy doesn’t answer. He just storms out, leaving an irreparable mess behind.

Quickly, I squat down as much as I can in the pink, sequined pencil skirt I chose this afternoon, and begin to pick up the large pieces of glass.

“Leave that, sugar. I don’t want you to cut yourself,” Mama says.

A part of me does want to cut myself—and that’s not something that’s ever run through my thoughts before. I can’t scream right now, though I want to so badly, and the pain just might be the distraction I need.

For someone who runs her mouth as much as I do, I’ve never talked about the painful emotions. Tucking them away to deal with later, to keep up the facade of a strong woman with a perfect life. Pasted smile and nodding head. The perfect life I supposedly had with Trent—the man who almost killed me. The man my parents still want me to be with.

But I can’t keep it up anymore, because I’m waking up. Not just to the world around me, but the things happening right in my own bubble. The bubble I loved living in for twenty-five years. It’s completely apparent to me my father would rather I be with a man like the one who almost killed me than the person who saved my life—because of class, and money, and the business ties we have with a family.

And that’s absolutely disgusting.

“What happened, Madeline?”

“I have to go, Mama,” I say, dropping the large chunks of glass into the trash and bolting out of the room.

“Madeline! The guests are arriving!” Mama calls.

On my way out the front door, I smack into Emily, my tatted up, younger sister. What the hell is Emily doing here

“Whoa! Hey, Maddie!” she says, grabbing my arm.

I don’t respond. I can’t process my own situation, let alone try to figure out what brought Emily into the lion’s den of a Commons holiday party, after sporadic attendance over the last few years. Instead, I wiggle out of her grasp, push past her, and rush to my car. Once inside, I let the tears flow freely. In the blur, I find my phone and call Erik.

He answers immediately. “Hey, Sweets! Miss me already?”

I can’t answer. Tears stream down my cheeks and over my lips, before dropping onto my silk blouse. My back bounces against the leather seat with each heaving sob.

“Maddie, what’s wrong? Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

I clutch the phone with both hands. “No!” Tears stream down my cheeks, dotting my black, silk top with wet splotches.

“Babe, please tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m at…” I say, through heaving sobs. “I’m still at my parents. I just told Daddy that—”

“Told him what?” Erik asks slowly.

“That you moved in.”

There’s silence on the other end.

Everything floods me at once, and at that particular moment, I realize I may have just fucked everything up. Not just with my parents, but also with Erik. We haven’t talked about when or how we’d tell my parents that real emotions replaced our fake relationship. Mouthing off to Daddy isn’t something I normally do, but the fact that I brought Erik into it just shows how absolutely selfish I am. I thought Erik taught me about caring for others and standing up for people.

And yet, in my anger, I used someone I love against my father, because I knew it would hurt him. I knew it would make him angry. I’m no better than he is.

My ignorant hissy fit might cause Erik a huge loss in income. If my father fires him, the trickle-down effect would be set into motion immediately. When Harris pulls out, his cronies are sure to follow suit. Someone doesn’t get fired without the trickle-down. He could lose multiple jobs over the way I did it. How would he pay for his grandmother’s care? The selfishness of me opening my big mouth without thinking about the consequences again weighs heavy on me.

“Jesus, Erik, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about the consequences, I just—”

“It’s okay, Maddie. It’s okay. We’ll face it together. I love you.”

Those words.

I love you.

How could he still love me after fucking up this badly?

Erik’s voice pulls me out of my trance. “I’m already on my way. Do not move.”

“No!” I wipe tears away with my fingers. “No! Daddy is angry, and everyone is about to show up, and—”

“I don’t care. I’m almost there. We’ll talk to him together.”

A pair of headlights shine in my rearview mirror. The party is underway. “This isn’t the time to talk. Guests are starting to arrive. We can’t talk about this in front of everyone.”

“So, we’re going to sweep it under the rug, put on our fake smiles, and pretend to enjoy the party while tension seeps into every crack of that house? I thought you were over that life?”

I appreciate Erik’s optimism, but I know my father—my family. This won’t go well. They won’t allow this to go well. I’m absolutely certain of that.

Still, he’s right. I am over the fake life. It’s time to face it all—the secrets and lies I put into motion, the ruckus I just caused inside, admitting the truth about Trent, the consequences of suggesting a fake relationship, knowing there was attraction behind it.

How did I ever think this could be simple? How did I ever think I could hold back my emotions with someone I’ve had so many feelings for? I didn’t think it was possible to fall in love in mere months, because I had never been in love in twenty-five years.

But that was a lie—I have been in love. I’ve been in love with Erik since I was a teenager.

Words are words. Anyone can say them. Hell, Trent told me he loved me, all the while grinding my self-confidence into the ground, day by day. Passive-aggressive insults. Twisting my words and kindness into something it wasn’t. I know, more than anyone, that actions matter above all else.

The fact that Erik wants to come over here and face my father tells me everything I need to know about his love.

“Maddie, are you still there?”

I nod, forgetting for a second that I’m still on the phone. “Yes,” I squeak out.

“I was invited to the party, so it’s going to be awkward. We have to face it head-on, together, just like everything else in life. We can do it, Madeline. I’ve got your back from now until the end of time.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be there soon, love.”

Just as I’m hanging up with Erik, a knock on my window startles me, causing me to drop my phone.

Emily pounds again, her heavily made-up face twisted with concern. Don’t get me wrong, she looks gorgeous. My sister is a master of makeup—she just wears a ton of it. She could hit the Broadway stage and be seen from the farthest seat back.

“Maddie, what’s going on?” she asks through the glass. With frigid fingers, I crank the engine and roll down the window.

“Just telling the truth and ruining people’s lives.” Her tan, knee-length coat is gorgeous. It looks like vintage suede, but Emily is vegan, so I know it’s some other material.

“The truth has a way of doing that.” She pulls her jacket closed and rounds the car, yanking the passenger door handle before jumping in next to me. The overpowering smell of marijuana envelops the small space.

“You smell like Cheech and Kong,” I say, coughing and batting the air, as though that will get rid of the pungent stench.

Emily laughs. “Chong.”

“Whatever. I’ll have to drive with my windows down for a week for that to air out.”

“Don’t be pissy with me; I came out to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” I say, rolling up my window despite the odor. It may trap the smell in, but I can’t stop shivering, so I don’t have a choice.

“Mayor Maddie is sitting alone, in a freezing-cold car, before a party is about to start. I’d say you need someone right now. Like it or not, here I am.” She gives me an exaggerated grin and holds up wiggling jazz hands. I can’t help but smile. “What’s the truth that’s ruining everyone’s lives?”

“I’m in love with Erik Raines.”

“The hot landscaper?” Emily exclaims.

I nod.

“Does he love you back?” she asks tentatively.

I nod.

She slaps her thigh. “You lucky bitch!”

I am lucky—lucky that Erik loves me. Lucky that he wants to stand up for me, and face my parents with me. There’s nothing wrong with falling in love. I don’t owe them an explanation for my personal choices.

“I’m surprised you let it happen. He’s a little beneath you, isn’t he?”

The old Maddie would bark back with a biting comment. Sarcasm and one-upmanship is the kind of relationship we have. Emily and I were never very close. We had nothing in common growing up, except our love for art. It’s still the only thing we have in common—we just took two different routes: fashion for me and tattooing for her.

Over the last few months, I’ve learned to see past my self-imposed blinders, my prejudices for people who choose a path I might not understand—like hers. I’m slowly learning to appreciate her as she is, not as who I expected or wanted her to be. Maybe her attitude isn’t about defiance; maybe she’s standing up for herself and her choices. Just because we don’t agree on our ideal lifestyles, doesn’t mean hers is wrong.

“I don’t need to be chastised right now, Em. I need support”—I drop my eyes to my lap—“and maybe a hug.”

Without hesitation, Emily wraps her arms around me. “I’m sorry, Mads.” She squeezes me tight. After a few seconds of soaking up strength through her embrace, I give her a quick rundown of what happened over the last few months. I’m almost finished when my phone beeps with a text.

Erik: Thought you were inside, so I knocked on the door, and got pulled into your dad’s den. It’s go time.

“Shit!” I shove my phone into my pocketbook. “I’ve gotta get in there right now.”