Chapter 7

Chase

It’s pretty much impossible to be annoyed with Liv, which annoys the shit out of me.

I mean, she’s completely messing with me—beautifying my kitchen when I’m not around to defend myself—and she set it up so there’s no way I can possibly object without hurting Katie’s feelings or acting like an ogre.

On top of that, they both look so happy.

When Celia was here, Katie never looked this happy. I mean, she wasn’t outright miserable and crying, but sometimes I thought that was just because Celia had succeeded in placating her with sweets or numbing her out with TV or a movie. At best, she seemed subdued.

But today she’s like a little bird, twittery and bright, all smiles, chirpily telling me what she and Liv did, how they went to all these stores and Liv let her choose everything—the placemats, the napkins, the candles. How Liv let her swipe the credit card in the machine and push the cart, how they went to the grocery store and then Liv pushed a chair up to the counter so Katie could help with the cooking, how Liv let Katie set the whole table all by herself because she’s a big girl.

And Liv is so damn pleased with herself, like the cat that swallowed the canary. It looks good on her, too. She has this secret smile, a slight soft curve to her lips. Her cheeks glow pink with satisfaction. She’s wearing her hair straight today, a long fall of glossy copper.

God, Liv is pretty.

I mean, that’s not news to anyone. I’ve known it since she walked into that overpriced restaurant. She’s gorgeous, I thought, and then—it was like a body blow—She reminds me of Thea. Not Liv’s sweetly rounded face or her runaway curves or the hair like a new penny, but—just the way she was. The way I felt when I saw her, instantly awed and then bristly because of it. Like Thea, she was so put together, so polished—like a stone you pick up on the beach and run your fingers over and over.

Too perfect.

“Daddy, we got your favorite kind of cake,” Katie says.

Nope, can’t stay annoyed with either of them.

Liv and Katie clear the table and bring the carrot cake to the table. Liv lets Katie slice it and then helps her tip the slices onto dessert plates. I already owned those plates, because my parents gave me more or less a full set of dishes when I graduated from college. I think they were figuring that I was such a fuck-up that there was absolutely no chance I would ever stumble into marriage and a wedding registry. My mother might actually have been worried that I wouldn’t eat at all if they didn’t stock my cabinets.

The carrot cake is amazing, which melts all my remaining irritation. Not that there was really any left. That said, I think Liv should watch her back. I am going to take my revenge wherever I can. Clearly we are locked in a war over whose vision for the world will dominate…When she least expects it, low maintenance will launch a counterattack…

“Daddy, will you play princesses and fairies with me when you’re done with your cake?” Katie asks, bouncing up and down in her chair.

I am not afraid of anything. I swear. I can smash or capture, your choice, those half-dollar-sized hairy-legged spiders. If necessary for the protection of the smaller, weaker, or meeker, I will fight (with fists or words) any person, male or female. I can MacGyver my way through pretty much any survival scenario outdoors with only things I can carry in my pockets (it’s helpful if one of them is a paper clip). In the middle of the night, if something makes a noise, I will leap out of bed to go investigate, hoping it’s an intruder in need of being taught a lesson.

But Katie’s make-believe games terrify me.

I make the mistake of glancing toward Liv. She gives me a look that if I didn’t know better, I would say is a smirk.

“If Liv doesn’t need me to help with the dishes?” I say weakly.

“I’ve got it totally under control,” Liv says, biting her lip in what I’m pretty sure is an effort not to laugh at me. “You guys go knock yourselves out. I’ll be there in a few.”

“C’mon, Daddy!” Katie calls, as she heads for the living room. “I’ll get your costume!”

“I suck at princesses and fairies,” I whisper.

Liv grins.

“Man up.”