Seriously. His own vanity and obsession with looking young might be his second biggest vice.
I’ve seen the old photos. Once, he was a handsome guy, but he’s let himself go big-time the past twenty years. Everything’s a little saggy and a lot red.
Bloodshot eyes.
Unmistakable gut from drinking too much beer and wine.
Jowls and shadows under his eyes from too many nights throwing poison down his throat.
“Hey, Little Queen.” He smiles and drops into the seat across from me. His eyes light up when he sees the wine and he grabs the bottle, staring at the label. “Now we’re talking. Napa Valley.”
“Hi, Dad. I know what you like.”
He doesn’t respond until he’s filled his glass, almost to the brim. Shameless.
“So how’s it going with my little bee?”
Not well.
I run my finger along the top of my wineglass. We do this every time, tossing bland, casual questions back and forth until he gets to the point where he rips his heart open.
I wonder how long he’ll wait before asking about my inheritance.
“Things are good,” I say softly. “I’m working on a new piece for my home décor business. It’s a three-paneled textured piece, all black and gold, a lot like the one I sold around last Christmas. Still can’t believe Margot and her hubby jumped on it. I can’t believe I let them.”
He chuckles.
“Hey, girl, a sale’s a sale. Nothing to sneer at either if it makes your cousins happy. Don’t forget they’re loaded. You’re gonna hit it big one of these days and leave them in the dust.” He winks at me as he opens the menu. “No big dates coming up?”
“Nope. Way too busy for that.” My face heats.
“Bah, I liked the boy you were with before. The kid with the motorcycle.”
I resist the urge to groan and cover my face.
“Finley? That was two years ago, Dad. And it was a motorized bike. Back in college.”
Back before my heart froze over.
Back before I found out a boy would resort to selling your nudes around campus for beer money and a tune-up on his stupid bike. I had to threaten to press charges until I watched him delete our dirty photos from the cloud.
The look on his face when he watched me grab his phone and smash the screen to pieces a second later was satisfying.
“Well, you’ve got time. Chasing your heart’s desire will pay off a hell of a lot more than jumping boyfriends will at your age.” He pours us more wine—his second full glass—and smacks his lips. “You’ve got your whole life ahead, Clee. Plenty of time for settling down later. Take it from me, don’t rush anything.”
“No plans to.”
I watch him drain half his glass before he sets it down and smiles.
“So. Tell me about your meeting with the old man’s lawyer. I tried calling her to ask for some details once, but she shut me down pretty quick. All private, you know, for your eyes only.” He snorts.
I thank my lucky stars Miss Wilkes is a trained ninja, immune to the Gordon Blackthorns of the world.
I also lock up. Before I came here, I thought long and hard about what I’d tell Dad about my inheritance.
As much as I love him, PopPop had every reason not to leave him another dime.
And if I do sell the egg, it could make me rich. Like, proper Blackthorn rich, assuming it’s genuine.
