Chapter Four

Nina

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, primping my hair for the umpteenth time, blotting my peach lipstick again. Dad liked perfect, pretty things, so I’d started trying hard to be perfect and pretty from an early age. It was a habit I could never quite shake when I got older.

I fastened a teardrop diamond pendant around my neck and offered myself a watery, uncertain smile before leaving my apartment in Master Heights.

I had to go talk to my dad.

I strode to the elevator and called it up to the twelfth floor, surrounded by potted ferns and elaborate mirrors as I waited.

Master Heights was on the north side of Hinton, a looming, luxurious brick complex with a revolving glass door and a doorman in a uniform. The astronomical rent was one of the first expenses my father agreed to cover for me when I became an adult.

“Anything to keep my princess close,” he said, and I blushed with pride. “You do a good job running Paper Treasure and you can pick your own car next.”

The elevator doors skated open and I stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor: 14. Dad liked to keep his princess close. The elevator lurched and carried me up two flights, then settled again. The door coasted open, and I forced myself out into the hall, taking deep breaths and juggling potential openers for the questions screaming in my skull.

So, Dad, have you ever been married before? I’m asking for a friend.

Do you have any other ‘princesses’ living in Master Heights?

He’s probably not even home. I would constantly tell myself that my dad wouldn’t be there for me, because being disappointed would hurt way less if I anticipated it.

I rang the buzzer and stood there for a minute.

My heart still gave up the same pained little squeeze when he wasn’t there, and I turned on my heel. What a wasted morning.

“Is that Nina out there?” Dad’s voice filtered from behind the front door, and I whirled, beaming without even meaning to. I couldn’t help it, damn it. Even after the constant abandonments, I would still wag my tail and prance around like a show dog if he would say one nice thing about me.

“Hey, Dad,” I called to him. “Have you already had breakfast?”

“If you count espresso, I have.” I could feel him beaming back at me through the wooden door. He did love me, didn’t he? Didn’t he? “But you’re too good for the kitchen, ma petite. I’ll cook.” The front door fell open, and Dad drew me into an immediate embrace. He smelled of delicate aftershave and faintly of smoke. He smiled down at me, exposing his every wrinkle, and drew me into the penthouse suite.

His kitchen was twice the size of mine, and he quickly brewed two more tiny cups of espresso for both of us. Next, he toasted two English muffins and spread butter and raspberry jam on top. Sausage links sizzled in a skillet on the stove as I sipped my espresso, working up my nerve, circling the sentences I wanted to say again and again while we made small talk.

Grow some balls and fucking say it.

I cleared my throat. “Hey, Dad,” I ventured.

“Yes, pet?”

Say it.

“Have you ever been to a bar called Toasty’s?”

“Never heard of it. Why?”

“Someone came in last night and they said… they said it was the best bar in Hinton.” I deflated. It would be easy to tell myself that Hercules was some random drunk, but that didn’t feel true. His eyes were so clear and steady. His apology was so real.

I closed my eyes. Say it. “And they said that Mom and I are your secret family.”

My eyes stayed closed, even though I could feel Dad’s gaze burning holes in me now. I kept breathing, waiting for his response.

“Nina,” Dad coaxed me. “Look at me.” I opened my eyes. He stood right in front of me with a plate of muffins and sausage. The plate hung between us, but his eyes never left my face. “You believed this random person?”

“N-no,” I lied instinctively. “I—I had to tell you. He said that you were married to someone else.” I continued in a tiny voice, “And that would make sense.”

We avoided mentioning our ugly history: that he had ignored me for most of my childhood, that he had cropped up in my life to play the doting father when I was already in my mid-teens. We pretended that we had always treasured this bond, but that was a lie.

Dad’s jaw tensed, and his eyes flashed. He sat the plate down on the counter with a clatter.

“I was never with your mother because I worked and traveled all the goddamn time,” he reminded me. He wasn’t yelling, but restrained anger tightened every word in the sentence like it was a muscle. “I worked and traveled all the goddamn time, so you and your mother could have the finest fucking things. Not because I had some secret family. Who the fuck told you that?”

“I already told you, he was a stranger,” I said, eyes trained down on the breakfast plate. I had lost my appetite now.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Dad snapped, pointing an accusatory finger. “Are you lying to me, Nina? What did he look like?”

I leaned away from Dad’s finger. “Muscular. Kind of like Superman with a beard.”

Dad nodded, eyes gleaming. “Didn’t you say that he worked at Toasty’s?”

My throat tightened. I didn’t want to get the man in trouble. In spite of his surly demeanor, his eyes were kind. “No,” I lied to him, never doubting that it was the right thing to do. “He told me that I should go there sometime. He said they had the best drinks.”

“Well, now you know he’s a liar,” Dad replied. “The drinks at Toasty’s are absolute piss.”

I thought you said you’d never heard of it.

“Don’t let your breakfast get cold,” Dad instructed me, though all the warmth was gone from his voice now.

I forced myself to pick up my fork and spear the sausage link. My stomach rolled in protest.

“You shouldn’t let such things get to you, darling,” Dad said, forgetting his earlier anger. He seemed to, anyway. “Con artists infest this forsaken city. The lunatic probably wanted a chance to dig through your medicine cabinet. You have the world in your spoon, love, and the parasites can smell it.”

“I don’t have the world in a spoon. I have a bookstore,” I reminded him. “On the bad side of town.”

“And a degree in Business.”

“My bachelor’s.”

“And you’re the most beautiful woman in Hinton, Nina. I won’t hear any more negative talk from my most prized girl. You’re even more beautiful than your mother was at your age! And she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen! I would’ve given her anything! You don’t have to work, you know. Laurence—”

“Not this again,” I groaned, dropping my head and forgetting all about being a secret daughter for a minute. “I’m not going to go out with your creepy, geriatric associate.”

“Please, Laurence is only forty-three. In the French culture, all the women want older men. They wouldn’t understand why you would want a man your own age.”

“Remotely, anyway,” I murmured.

“And he’s a good man, Nina,” Dad continued to defend his friend. “He would take care of you for the rest of your life.”

“For the rest of his life, you mean,” I joked, unable to stop myself.

Dad shot me a scathing look. “You’re too good for the masses, Nina, and without someone to fall back on, it’s going to get lonely at the top. Trust me.”

My eyebrows knitted together. Was Mom his fallback option?

“I don’t want to marry someone to avoid being lonely,” I promised Dad. I meant that. “I’ve been lonely all my life. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Dad gave me a significant look, but he didn’t say anything. He stared me down, but his eyes weren’t soft. They weren’t fatherly. They were probing. Cold. As if to ask, How dare you bring that up? You know we don’t talk about my mistakes.

“I have a meeting at Redhead,” he told me, using his shorthand for his company headquarters. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back. What are your plans for today?”

I caught the implication that Dad wanted to show me out, and I didn’t take offense to it. The espresso was cold by now. I wanted to leave, anyway. “I let Will and the new part-timer take a full shift together today at the bookstore, so I’m wide open. Maybe I’ll do some writing of my own.” I stood and dumped my plate into the trash, then placed it in the sink. Dad walked me toward the foyer, his hand guiding me by my lower back.

“Writing sounds like a great way to spend a chilly Sunday afternoon,” he said, his eyes warm and friendly again. He played the perfect father as he opened the front door for me and ushered me out. “I’ll see you later, princess.” He hesitated at the door and added, “Remember not to let the little people get under your skin. You’ve got the world in your spoon, if you want it.”

I forced a smile, inherently hating the way he kept saying that. I didn’t have the world in my spoon, and even if I did, I wouldn’t want it. Some people hunger for things that are smaller and sweeter than the whole world. Hell, some people want a little attention and honesty.

“Thanks, Daddy,” I said and stood on my tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Bye now.”

I turned and strode to the elevator, punching the button and waiting for the doors. But when I stepped inside, I didn’t press 12. Because I wasn’t going to go to my apartment to write.

I pressed G, because I was going to the ground floor.

I was going to Toasty’s.