Page 8 of The Daddy’s Girl

Once upon a time, I too had that zest for life.

If I could start over and truly let someone in, I’d want it to be someone like that. Someone with so much zeal, it makes life worth living. About more than just sex. Someone eager to travel, taste new foods, try new things, live a full and happy life.

Not her, of course. As beautiful and brilliant as Amelia is, she is my best friend’s daughter and my goddaughter, and that is just a line I will not cross. The Kades are like my family, and I’d rather cut ties with my own blood before betraying them in any way.

Besides, Amelia’s future is bright, and it should stay that way. I hope she never gets herself tied down to an old man like me.

Draining the last of my wine, I look around the club one more time. Once I’m done, I slide it over to Weston and stand.

I was once a king in this realm, but now I am nothing more than a shadow.

Perhaps it is time I let go.

Rule #3: When at family dinners, avoid topics like your career, your love life, and that obsessive crush you’ve had since you were a teenager.

Amelia

“Oh, I’m stuffed,” I complain as I lean back in my seat and pat my stomach. On the open rooftop terrace of my best friend’s restaurant, I stare up at the faint night stars, drowned out by the city lights.

These weekly family dinners here have become a tradition, every Wednesday night. My parents are sitting at the end of the table to my right and my brother with his family to my left. Even Matis joins us, sitting in the middle of the table across from me, the two singles left.

“Once again, delicious, Chef,” I say.

My best friend, Freya, beams with a proud smile. Holding a glass of wine, she fiddles with the gold band on her left hand. Ever since Archer put that thing on her finger, she’s been playing with it. There’s a matching one on my brother’s finger as well.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Freya replies.

“I wish I was half as talented as you.”

“Oh, stop,” she scolds. “You are very talented, Amelia.”

I scowl at her because she knows I hate compliments, but she does it anyway.

“She loves to do that,” my brother says flatly. “She’s allergic to praise.”

“Well, too bad,” my mother teases. “Because we’re never going to stop telling you how talented you are, Melly.”

As my cheeks burn, I cover them with my hands. “Please stop.”

“I mean, look at what you did with that club,” my dad adds.

“I gave it a fresh coat of paint,” I reply.

Across the table, Matis grins as if he enjoys my torture before deciding to join in the fun. “It was far more than paint, and you know it.”

“Not you too,” I whine.

“Sorry, Trouble. Besides, I saw you working hard in your studio the other night. Whatever it was, it looked good.”

“Ooh, tell us,” my mom says with excitement as she leans forward to hear the details of my current project.

With a shake of my head, I grab the wine bottle from the table and refill my glass. “It was nothing, really. I’m just working on a spring line for a program I’m trying to get into. I’m not going to actually make it.”

“Boo,” Freya says as she wads up her napkin and throws it at me.

“What was that for?”

“Do you remember when I was opening this place, and you bullied me into believing in myself?”