Page 25 of Naz & Roz

“I know. Zeke, on the other hand … well, he no longer has to figure you out as his godson, and this brilliant boy he watched grow up, Naz. He’s got to figure you out as the young man who has suddenly found himself very interested in his seventeen-year-old daughter.”

Naz hesitated in the hallway, even though his father was following close enough behind him to see the action. “Is that what it is—her age?”

Seventeen was legal in New York. He wasn’t robbing a fucking cradle. The woman was old enough to make choices, according to the law. And hadn’t she practically been living as a young adult for a while now?

“I don’t think it’s the age, really,” Cross said, “more … everything else.”

“Everything else,” Naz echoed.

His father walked past him in the hallway, and clapped him on the shoulder. “She’s still his daughter. I know you don’t understand, but I sure as hell do. Keep that in mind while he figures things out, too.”

“Things like what?”

“Oh, Naz.”

That time, his father patted him on the head like a puppy.

“For being so damn brilliant,” his father said, smirking, “you’re terribly fucking dense at times, son.”

“Rude,” Naz grunted.

“Yeah, well … enjoy your breakfast with Roz,” Cross said. “And don’t ask how I know that, either.”

Jesus Christ.