Page 7 of The Art of Ruin

“Yay. She played dragons and princesses with me and let me be the dragon. Not like stupid Rory O’Connor who said girls can’t be dragons.”

“Letty, we don’t call people stupid. But you are correct that Rory is wrong. You can be whatever you want to be.” God, it’shard being a responsible parent when what I really want to do is tell Rory O’Connor’s dad that he’s raising a misogynistic asshole.

“When?”

“When, what?”

Letty rolls her eyes, like I’m the idiot who can’t keep up. “When is she coming?”

“Friday.”

She presses a strawberry between her fingers, examining it before taking a bite. Juice stains the corner of her mouth. “Is she staying?”

My chest aches at the hope in her voice. My child has had more upheaval than any child her age should know.

“I hope so, Jellybean.”

Letty frowns. “You have to be nice so she stays.”

I lift my coffee to hide what almost becomes a smile. “I’ll make a note.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

She goes back to eating, apparently satisfied that she has corrected my character. “Are you going to work?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Big work or little work?”

Big work is the office at ISM Holdings, the company me and my brothers built and named after our mother. Little work is my home office.

“Big.”

She leans back slightly, considering that. “Tell Uncle Matteo he still owes me a pony.”

“He does not owe you a pony.”

“He promised.”

“Uncle Matteo promises a lot of things.”

Her mouth drops open in offense. “Daddy.”

“I’ll remind him.”

That’s enough.

She smiles, small and pleased, like she’s already won. Why Matteo insists on torturing me with these promises, which I absolutely know he’ll follow through on, is beyond me.

After breakfast, she insists on brushing her teeth herself because she’s a big girl.

I stand in the bathroom doorway while she climbs the stool, squeezes too much toothpaste onto the brush, and bares her teeth at the mirror.

“Two minutes,” I say.

“I know.”

She doesn’t, which is why I set the egg timer for her.