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Merry jumped out of his seat and took off at breakneck speed.

The manners on that one. You have your work cut out for you, Grandma sniffed.

“That’s not my job,” I replied, realizing my mistake too late.

Art frowned. “What’s not your job?” he asked.

“Sorry, I was just thinking out loud. Bad habit I picked up living on my own,” I said, grabbing Merry’s plate and stacking it on mine.

“Cleaning up’s not your job?” Art asked, refusing to let me deflect. “Because I agree. Neither is policing Merry. He’s not your responsibility. That said, I’m always open to suggestions and feedback. With the caveat that I reserve the right to choose what advice I follow.”

Viv snorted. “Yeah, right. Because you were so open to my ‘suggestions and feedback’ about this ‘adventure,’” she said, flashing air quotes, as though she’d always seen right through her father’s subterfuge.

“Viv, it’s my job to keep you safe,” Art said, turning his frown on her. “Sometimes that means I’m going to make decisions you don’t like, and, while I’m sorry it has to be that way, I’m not going to stop.”

“You mean like pulling me out of high school so we can live on the other side of the world with your girlfriend?” Her voice dripped with disdain, and it was all I could do to not snap at her to speak to her father with a little more respect.

“I did not pull you out of school to move to the other side of the world to live with my girlfriend,” Art snapped back, his temper fraying.

“I saw you two holding hands under the table,” she cried, jabbing her finger accusingly at the glass tabletop.

“It’s…” Art faltered and finally glanced at me.

“Am I your girlfriend?” I asked, taken aback that he’d throw the term around without discussing it with me first.

He flashed me a surprised look. “Aren’t you?”

“Ugh! Dad! You can’t just call someone your girlfriend without asking them! What are you, a trog?”

“A trog?” Art asked, glancing back and forth between us with a bewildered expression.

Viv rolled her eyes. “A troglodyte? Duh.” She mimicked dragging someone by their hair, and I had to bite back a laugh.

Art shot me a betrayed look. With a sigh, I came to his rescue.

“It’s complicated,” I said to Viv.

Relieved, he turned back to his daughter. “Exactly, it’s complicated, which isn’t to say that I’m not thrilled to be reunited with Meg. But she’s not the reason I pulled you out of school. I pulled you out of school because your mom, your therapist, and I agreed it’s what’s best for you right now.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” she whined in protest, throwing her arms in the air. The little cat, who’d curled up in her sweatshirt shortly after her bath and had been sleeping there happily ever since, protested being jostled with an indignant squeak.

“The only reason you didn’t do anything is because your little hooligan friends were caught before they could steal that car, and you know it,” Art snapped, red-faced and with veins popping slightly in his neck, pressing both of his hands onto the table, ready to push himself to his feet. I lightly touched his shoulder.

“She’s safe,” I reminded him softly.

Almost immediately, the tension he was radiating melted away, and he slumped forward, hanging his head. He took a long slow breath that he let out even more slowly before looking up again to fix his daughter with an unwavering gaze.

“Viv, I will always, and I do mean always, cop to it if and when I make a bad decision or do something wrong, but I will not apologize for getting you out of that school before you got hauled off to juvie for grand theft auto.”

His words came out calm and steady even as he shook under my hand.

“I don’t even play video games, Dad,” Viv said, rolling her eyes. “That makes no sense.” Wrapping her arms protectively around the cat, she slumped against the backrest of her chair and glared at him defiantly.

Art sighed. “Grand theft auto is what it’s called when you steal a car. It’s a really, really big deal, Viv.”

“Oh, whatever.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “That’s not even what we were doing.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think your friends were or weren’t doing. What matters is what the cops and the court think they were doing. More important, what matters to me is your safety and keeping you away from people who could ruin your life.”