NINE
Belle
“Any luck?”
I drop my head onto the keyboard of my laptop. “No.”
Dad chuckles, moving behind where I sit at the kitchen counter to set his coffee mug in the sink. “Maybe you need the night off looking?”
“I’ve been looking for a week,” I whine, “and everything is either too expensive, needs too much done to outfit it, or is in the wrong area.” I flick my fingers out as I list the points. “I’m starting to rethink opening the shop in Longdale.”
“Stick it out.” Dad rests his elbows on the counter opposite me. “You’ve got a good customer base here. There’s only that one place down by the railway station, and you know as well as I do that people make the forty-minute drive into the city anyway because their artists are shit.”
“Yeah, well, I can understand why the good ones went to the city.”
His expression softens as he sighs. “Do you need a hand for a while?”
“No. There’s no need for that.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure? Because Sharon and I could spare a little bit to top up your budget.”
“Honestly, Dad.” I reach for his hand. “No. I can do this on my own. I can reshuffle how much I spend on what. I was simply being frugal and trying to make my savings spread out further, is all.”
“The offer stands.” He straightens up and turns for the living room. “I’m off to bed anyway. You want me to leave the TV on?”
“No, turn it off. Thank you.”
He taps the button on the remote, sending the adjoining rooms into darkness. “Knowing Sharon, she probably needs me to pry the book out of her hands before she wakes up with an imprint on her face, anyway.”
I chuckle, returning his wave as he leaves the room.
I’ve enjoyed the past week at home bearing witness to the dynamic of Dad and Sharon’s relationship. They’re so cute together, and I love how relaxed she makes him. With Cerise, he was always on edge, always stressed about something. But with Sharon he has this calm air about him that wasn’t around even when it was just the two of us.
He deserves it.
With the glow of the laptop as my light, I slide off the stool and wander into the kitchen for a late-night snack. Dad might hit the hay early, but I’m a night owl and more often than not I’m still awake at midnight with a thousand things running through my head. So many ideas, so many things I want to do, but so many obstacles to overcome to get to the point where I can.
I pull the door of the fridge open and stare at the shelves. If I spend more on the lease for the shop, then that leaves me begging for a larger loan to buy the equipment I need to set up the interior. I could buy second-hand, maybe refurbish some old tables myself, but there’s a certain cleanliness that comes with brand new furniture, and if I want to make a good first impression, I’ll need that edge. I grab a nectarine with a sigh and swing the fridge shut. My dream of going solo was so much simpler when I was eighteen and naïve. But as much as learning from Chris’s experience has definitely given me a foot up, it’s also opened my eyes to all the associated costs I didn’t take into account when thinking I could easily save to fund the start-up myself.
If only I had cheap space. Like the studio at Zeus’s house. Damn it. The flesh rips from the crisp fruit as I take my frustration out on it with my bite. Four days I’ve sat on that damn message of his. Four days where I’ve rewritten my reply a thousand times in my mind.
Four days where I haven’t heard a single thing from Damien.
I wake the screen of the laptop as I sit down and navigate with my free hand to the browser. Juice dribbles over my lip and settles on my chin as I reread Zeus’s words. I swipe it away and finish the fruit, sighing through my nose as I set the core down on the counter. My jeans wear the sticky coating from my fingers as I swipe them over the denim to clean them off.
All or nothing.
My fingers hover over the keyboard; this shit is so much easier in my head.
Light floods the kitchen, startling the hell out of me as Dad opens the fridge. He lifts a bottle of water when I slam the lid of my laptop closed.
“Thirsty.” He hesitates, his frown illuminated before he shuts the fridge again. “Did I interrupt something?”
“No.” I try to laugh it off. “Just about to head to my room anyway. I didn’t hear you come back in.” I slide the device under my arm and head for the hallway.
“See you in the morning, then.”
“Yeah.” I wave him off as I flee to the sanctuary of my bedroom, ears burning.
I close the door behind me and toss the laptop on my bed. That was close—too close. Panic still seizes my heart as I run my hands over my head and let out a loaded breath. Why the hell I’m so worried about what Dad thinks when it’s just a message, I don’t know.
Except it’s not just a message. The things he said…. I launch myself at the bed and flip the lid open to log back in. The words stare back at me from the screen.
He loves me. He still wants me. And yet, he believes he’ll never have me.
Does that mean he’s single? Is there no significant other in his life? Why does that make me so deliriously happy?
My fingers beat a furious path over the keyboard as I type out my response. So much I want to tell him, yet there’s only a few things I can say without throwing gas on the fire. I have to respond; I can’t leave him wondering.
I can’t hurt him more than I already have.