Page 114 of The Daddy’s Girl

“No, of course not. But…it involves Matis.”

“So?” I snap a little too eagerly.

“Maybe when you get out, we can have a minute downstairs?”

“Mom! You can’t just leave me hanging like that.”

I’m shaking, and the only thing holding me up at this moment are his firm hands around my arms.

“Well, I’m sorry, Melly. I just wanted to give you a heads-up before you find out from him.”

“Find out what?” I shout.

“Your father is buying a club in London.”

The tremble subsides in an instant as I stare into Matis’s eyes. His brows furrow as he glances toward the door, not that my mother can see him.

Pressing Matis behind me, I pull back the curtain by the wall enough to poke my head out. My mother breathes a heavy sigh when she sees me.

“I don’t understand,” I reply. “What does that have to do with Matis? Or me?”

“Well…” She crosses her arms over her chest and gives me that sympathetic look. “Your father is going to ask Matis to run it.”

Suddenly, the steam becomes too much. No matter how hard I train my face not to move, emotions bubble to surface like a pot on the stove. My nostrils flare and my eyes water.

Behind me, I feel Matis caress his fingers down my spine.

“What does that have to do with me?” I mumble, trying to look unaffected.

The look of pity on my mother’s face etches deeper, and for just a moment, I’m angry at her for it. She’s being obtusely gentle with me for a reason. My mother, my fiercest ally, my biggest supporter.

There’s just one problem with that. She knows me better than anyone. Better than I know myself. She knows what will upset me before I do. She protects me from my triggers before they have a chance to even trigger me.

And she knows that I don’t like change.

So she’s here to lighten the blow.

And they say not to shoot the messenger, but she is always the messenger.

“Honey, I know how much he means to you.”

No, she doesn’t.

I shrug. “Relax, Mom. It’s, like, two hours away.”

She nods, not buying my fake aloofness at all. That’s another thing I hate…how well she sees right through me. So I pull my head back into the shower and slam the curtain shut.

“He might not even say yes,” she replies. “I just…wanted to give you time to process it before everyone else finds out.”

“I’ve processed it. Thanks.” My tone is short and annoyed, and I don’t dare look into his eyes, so I keep them on the water droplets cascading down the curtain.

“Okay, sweetie,” she says. “Sorry to interrupt you.”

With that, she slips out of the bathroom and closes the door behind her. A moment later, I hear my bedroom door shut, and I know we’re alone. She must not have seen the evidence on my bedroom floor.

“Trouble, look at me.”

Defiantly, I lift my eyes and give a lazy, half-hearted smile. I try to convey to him that I am unbothered, not worried…and failing miserably, of course. Before I can even say a word, he pulls me close and presses his forehead to mine.