Page 124 of The Daddy’s Girl

If we had just kept our hands to ourselves during dinner, I could be at his place right now doing God knows what and it would be amazing. But no. Instead, I’m a dog with its tail between its legs, running over to my coworker’s home to beg her not to tell anyone.

First Julian. Then Geo. And now Phoenix.

At this point, it feels like my parents are the only people who don’t know, and that won’t last forever.

When I reach Phoenix’s quaint flat at the top of the hill, I’m breathing heavy and still shaking with nerves. I buzz her apartment and pray she’s home. I didn’t just climb up those two hundred steps for nothing.

“Allô?” Her voice comes through the fuzzy intercom in a clipped, guarded tone.

“It’s me,” I reply. “Amelia.”

There’s a pause, and it’s loaded with awkwardness. She knows exactly why I’m here.

A moment later, the door clicks as she unlocks it, and I yank it open. Phoenix lives above a restaurant, so the stairwell to her apartment is narrow and the stairs are steep. My legs burn as I scurry up them toward her door on the second floor.

She’s standing in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. As I reach the landing, she glances down the stairs as if waiting to see someone else coming.

“I’m alone,” I reply breathlessly.

“Come in.”

I follow her into her apartment, feeling like a child about to be scolded. The door closes behind me as I take a glance around Phoenix’s apartment, and it’s nothing like I expected.

Phoenix is brilliant in a books and numbers sort of way. Frankly, I’ve always considered her a bit of a square, nerdy and antisocial. So when I enter her place and see a cozy living room with books stacked on shelves and beside the coffee table, that’s not all that shocking.

What is shocking is the American wrestling match playing on the television and the K-pop poster hanging on her wall above a cozy reading chair.

I’m frozen in place, wondering if I showed up to the right apartment.

Out of nowhere, a cold bottle of beer is thrust into my hands. She passes by me with her own as she plops down on the big green velvet couch and hits Mute on her TV remote.

“Have a seat, Amelia.”

In a daze and feeling as if I’ve stepped into an alternate reality, I follow Phoenix to her couch and fold my legs under me as I sit on the opposite side. She takes a swig from her bottle as she watches me. I guess she’s waiting for me to start.

So I dive right in.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she answers flatly.

Chewing my lip, I stare at her, waiting for her to start berating me or questioning me. “He didn’t coerce me or anything.”

She tilts her head. “I didn’t think he did.”

“You’re judging me,” I mutter, feeling defensive.

To my surprise, she lets out a bark of laughter. “Judge you? Why would I judge you?”

“I don’t know.” My voice has grown louder and more erratic. “Because he’s my godfather and he’s twenty-eight years older than me. And he’s my dad’s best friend. And most people would assume he’s groomed me or something, but it was never like that with us. In fact, he fought me a lot on everything, and I was the one who pursued him⁠—”

“Amelia,” she snaps, putting a hand out to stop me. “Is that what you really thought? That I’d be so contemptuous toward you and your relationship with Matis?”

I screw up my mouth, not entirely knowing what contemptuous means, but it doesn’t sound good.

“Maybe,” I murmur.

She laughs again before taking another pull from the bottle. “Geez, you must think I’m really a big dull prude, don’t you?”