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“He’s a Cirillo. Of course it’s real.”
“Fair point,” he mutters. “Don’t show Piper, she’ll want a bigger one,” he jokes.
I stare down at the red diamond glittering on my finger and let out a sigh.
“Talk to me about him, Em. What’s it really like with the two of you?”
“It’s…” I hesitate, not knowing where to start. “It’s a mess. I thought I hated him. He’s this entitled, big-headed douchebag who thinks he runs Knight’s Ridge and half of London with his little crew behind him. But then…” I trail off, trying to find words to describe what I think of him now.
“Now you don’t hate him?” Dad offers.
“Oh no, I really fucking hate him. Has Cruz not told you anything about what’s happened?”
Dad nods, and it’s only then that I notice just how much he’s trying to be understanding and listen to me instead of going off about all the stupid fucking decisions I’ve made.
Not that any of this with Theo has anything to do with me.
It should be Mum he wails at for that.
“When we’re together, just the two of us… Something is just… something is just right. I can’t describe it. It’s kinda like the rest of the world ceases to exist, and I’m with the only person who gets me.” Silence falls around us as the weight of my confession settles on my shoulders. “It doesn’t matter, though.”
“It doesn’t?”
“How can I trust him with anything after this? He’s lied to me, manipulated me, locked me up, stolen my phone, chipped me like a fucking dog. I could probably go on.”
“You have every right to hate him, Em. But it’s okay to miss him too.”
I stare into Dad’s dark eyes that are so familiar to mine it’s weird, and I wonder where my father really is.
“Piper really has done a number on you, huh?”
“She’s made me see things differently. Some things are just meant to be.”
“You really believe that even after all the years you spent apart?”
“Yeah, I do. What we had back then, it was too much for us to handle. We needed the time, the space. Our time is now.”
“So in seventeen years, Theo and I might reconnect and live happily ever after?” I ask with a laugh.
“Who knows? Maybe. Only you get to write your story, kid.”
“Why aren’t you shouting at me?” I ask, genuinely curious as to why he isn’t furious about the fact that I’ve been lying to him for weeks.
“Would it make a difference? Would it turn back time and stop you hanging out with Cruz or stop you from ending up in the middle of all this?”
“No,” I answer honestly.
“I’m disappointed, Em. I won’t lie to you. I wish you could have just been honest with me about wanting to spend time with Cruz and Pops. But what’s done is done. I’m also not all that impressed that you were sneaking a certain boy into our holiday—”
“Titch,” I groan.
Dad chuckles. “It amuses me that you didn’t think he’d tell me eventually, Em. I knew something was going on. I knew you were hiding something. I was worried but figured that at seventeen, if it was just sneaking a boy in I didn’t have all that much to worry about.
“I trust you, Emmie. You’re a good egg, and if you deem him worthy to spend time with, then I guess I’ll have to give him the benefit of the doubt, no matter what his surname is.”
“You’re serious?”
“I could threaten to go shoot him instead if you want,” he offers.
