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“What did you guys get up to last night?” he asks, holding my gaze, giving me his best poker face.
Mark’s no dummy, and we’ve known each other since we were so young I can’t even remember how old.
His jaw tightens for a second, and then he relaxes his face and leans back.
I should have an answer. Anyone who didn’t take his only daughter last night would be able to list off everything they did apart from that in a second without a problem.
But I freeze, just long enough for Mark to join the dots.
Maybe.
He raises both brows, puckers his mouth, and then looks past me, his eyes focused on what I know must be Misty’s back in the kitchen.
Jesus, Mark you shoulda been a fucking detective. This is terrible.
I won’t tell though, not yet. I promised Misty it wouldn’t ruin Thanksgiving and I mean it. I won’t.
I clear my dry throat, clutching at it for a moment, feeling like I’m being choked.
But I think of her, Misty. My reason for living now and my promise to her.
A white lie, just a teensy one.
“Uh, we got some food ready for today… chatted by the fire I made for a bit. I think Misty went to bed early, I must’ve flaked on the couch. That flight was pretty brutal,” I tell him, pleased with how confident I sound.
Twenty years selling and buying other people’s money that I know isn’t really worth the paper it’s printed on. I can bluff too when I have to.
“Oh,” Mark says casually, stabbing me with a quick smile.
Almost friendly.
At this stage I know it’s always best to turn the tables when someone’s fishing for what I don’t want to trade.
“How ‘bout you, huh?” I ask, mirroring his earlier stance, leaning in and lowering my voice. “That Veronica, eh?” I grin with a wink, sucking air between my teeth before giving a low whistle.
Mark shrugs. But now he’s not so sure about me and Misty, I can tell.
“You didn’t seem to think so last night,” he says after a moment. “And what’s with giving her all that money? It was like you couldn’t wait to get her or me out of my own dammed house,” he says gruffly.
Touché.
I frown, pinching my eyes for a second. “It’s Thanksgiving, Mark. Who in their right mind is gonna do any work at their usual rate if at all?” I exclaim, forgetting to keep my voice down.
Mark’s eyes narrow again, getting shifty. He’s not buying what I’m selling.
“And you mean to tell me she just walked up and down your back for an hour?” I retort, almost hissing with accusation.
Mark takes a breath, and calms himself instantly.
“You’ve changed, Zak,” he says impassively, like someone who sees an old friend after so long and can’t even see the memories anymore, just the face.
“C’mon, Mark. What the hell does that mean?” I ask him earnestly, feeling genuine hurt now.
“It means, you’ve changed,” he says again, scanning me with his eyes to the point I get defensive and stand up, looming over towards him.
“Here Dad, some coffee and a-” Misty starts to say behind me as she walks back in, sensing the mood her Dad’s in straight away.
Mine’s not much better, to be honest, and I’m half wondering if it’s maybe best to just be out with it.
“What did you and Zak do last night, honey?” he asks cheerily, shaking his head as he holds my gaze again, warning me not to turn around. Not to look at Misty.
Not to prompt her.
His face changes again after what feels like a full minute of silence but must be only a few seconds.
“Uhhh. I got the rest of the things out of the truck, had a shower, and went to bed early. I think Zak was pretty tired too,” she says, sounding nowhere near as confident as I did.
I hear the cups starting to rattle on the tray before she has to set it down.
“You didn’t watch a movie, play cards, or anything?” he asks, probing her further.
My own jaw tightens, and I guess Mark’s right. I have changed.
I’ve changed my mind about how much I hurt his feelings from now on. Misty’s mine, she belongs to me. I don’t have to stand here and watch him do this to her.
“Oh, that’s right,” Misty adds, and I hear her slapping her own forehead. “We watched a movie, then I went to bed.”
“Which movie?” Mark asks, starting to return my look. “Which movie, honey?” he asks again, starting to lean forward.
Misty falters, I want to turn around and just hold her. Get us both out of here, but I know how much her Dad means to her.
And there’s that matter of my promise.
Dammit!
“Which movie?” Mark asks again, almost yelling before I shout over him as he jumps to his feet.
