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Dad bows his head, a clear admission of guilt but also pain. I hurt him just now, but he has to own what he did if he wants to reprimand me for being the “younger woman” screwing her older boss.
“It’s not just the fact that he’s older, Poppy,” Dad finally says, daring to make eye contact again. “Nathaniel Stone has a… troubled past. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
I walk closer to him, my resolve softening when I see how broken he really looks. At this moment, I feel like a five-year-old girl just wanting to cuddle her daddy.
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him, fighting against the lump forming in my throat. “It’s over. I won’t be interning at the gallery anymore.”
Dad furrows his eyebrows, his expression harsh again. “Did he fire you? Because we can take him to court, Poppy. Unfair dismissal. If he sexually harassed or manipulated or seduced you, in any way, we’ll take him to the cleaners.”
I smile, knowing that he’s just saying that out of love for his daughter rather than hate for Nathaniel. In fact, Dad has tons of respect for him. It’s a little gutting that more than one relationship has been ruined in this mess.
“No, it was a mutual decision, Dad. I’m okay with it, really.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He gives a slow nod and then gestures to the car. “Come on, sweetie. I’ll give you a ride home.”
I etch another weak smile and walk around to the passenger-side door. After I get in, and Dad turns the ignition, he pauses and looks over at me.
“Did he ever tell you what happened to his wife?” he asks, his voice as low as a whisper.
I can’t hide my surprise over the question. Nathaniel made it clear that there was no secret wife on the scene, but that was all he said. He had a wife?
“No…” My voice trails off as the past tense of that sentence sinks in. He had a wife. So, that means
she must have died. “W-what happened to her?” I ask Dad, my voice shaking a little.
Dad lets out a heavy sigh like he’s battling with his answer. “It’s not my place to say, sweetie. But her name was Danneel, and she died when Micah was just a baby. If—” He breaks off midsentence and sighs again. “If you and Nathaniel… do decide to keep this relationship between you going… then I’m sure he’ll tell you about her in his own time.”
For the first time since Mom died, I don’t feel like a semi-orphan. This is the realist conversation my dad and I have ever had. It’s like, before, there was a wall up between us, and no matter how hard we tried to chip it away, it never relented. Until tonight—until one moment of clarity and vulnerability had punched an almighty hole right through it, causing the diamond-hard foundations to crumble.
As Dad pulls the car out of the lot, against my better judgment, I gaze at the gallery’s two glowing bay windows as we pass by. The venue is still swarming with people clinking glasses and laughing while they admire Vanessa’s art.
Then I see him, just a quick glimpse, a tall, handsome statue striding over to rejoin his guests.
My heart skips a few beats, yearning for what it can no longer have, but then I peer back over at Dad, and the corners of my lips curl up.
Maybe some things really are for the best…
Chapter Fourteen
Nathaniel
I’m holed up in one of the back workrooms of my gallery. I’ve spent most of my waking hours here, and too many of the hours in which I should have been sleeping. It’s been a week since Poppy walked out on me for good, and I’m a fucking mess. I can’t eat. Can’t sleep. It feels like someone turned down the color settings in my world. Everything had seemed vibrant and alive when I’d had Poppy in my life, and now everything’s gray and muted. I don’t want to do much of anything besides stare at the walls.
And paint.
I’ve been painting. It’s the only thing, besides Micah, getting my ass out of bed this last week. I didn’t expect it to hurt this damn much. I haven’t been this wrecked since Danneel died. Even that, though, was a different kind of wrecked. It was heartbreaking and sad, and I was angry, and I was sure I’d never, ever love anyone again. Definitely not the way I loved her. And I hadn’t wanted to. She was my one and only. I spent the last five years, before Poppy, sating my needs with women who meant nothing, because I didn’t want anything more than that. None of them was my wife.
And then Poppy opened the gallery door, letting in a flurry of wind that knocked over that damn painting. What started out as lust and desire became so much more. I started seeing her as my forever, a woman that my wife would have liked, a woman who pushes me to be better, to feel more.
And she’s gone.
This heartbreak is different, I think as I lay more paint on the canvas. I didn’t have the power to save my relationship with Danneel because it was just her time, but Poppy is alive. She’s here, in this city, and I can’t have her. She’s so near, and she doesn’t want me.
Old and dirty. That’s how she sees me.
