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“Um, maybe start by treating Eliza like a person?”
My jaw pinches together.
Only fifteen and she’s already making demands. Shame she’s set on this marine biology thing, or she would’ve made one hell of an executive negotiator.
“I told you, I tried. She wasn’t interested in hearing it. I can’t make a woman talk to me—not even a badger lady.”
She gives me a long stare.
“So, wait, somehow you stomp around like you’re king of the world and you can make everything happen, but not this? If you want something badly enough, you go after it, Dad. That’s what you taught me. That’s how you live. I’m not sure why it’s any different with Eliza.” She huffs out a heavy breath. “But you apologized over voicemail, right?”
“She wouldn’t pick up the phone,” I force out, knowing how pathetic that sounds.
Even now, I have an urge to show up at Eliza’s door and wait there all night until she talks to me.
“That’s not an apology,” Dess says, swiping a hand over her face.
“Thank you, doctor. Did those sea lions make you an expert on doling out love advice?” I smirk at her.
“Dude. You’re such a dad. Maybe it’s an old people thing—I don’t know—but even the freakin’ high school boys know apologizing over a voicemail isn’t apologizing at all.”
I glower, wishing whatever the hell happened with Eliza could be as simple as young love.
She shakes her head tiredly.
“Yep. Definitely an old guy thing. But Eliza isn’t that old. You’ve got to wizen up if you want her back. She’s younger than you and she doesn’t know what dating was like before the wall fell.”
“Good, because I never heard of anyone taking dating advice from East Germans. And you said apologizing isn’t apologizing.”
“No, I said apologizing over voicemail isn’t apologizing. Key difference.”
“Why not? I said I was sorry.”
She looks at me like I’m on fire and she isn’t sure if she wants to put me out.
“Right, in the crummiest way ever. You could mean it—or it could just be convenient. You didn’t even talk to her. Have you tried meeting her in person?”
“I wanted to, but it hasn’t been in the cards. And shouldn’t I simply respect her space?”
“Umm—I’ve only ever had one boyfriend—”
“Who?” I bite off.
The little prick had better hope he’s another imaginary college kid, for his sake.
I remember how I was at fifteen, and I sure as hell don’t want any boy like me chasing my daughter.
“Dad, focus. If he basically called me a loser and ghosted—sorry, 'respected my space'—I’d just assume it was over.”
“I didn’t call her a loser. Not once,” I clip.
“No, but you implied she lives in a warzone where bikers shoot at mafia dudes every day for their drug money.”
“Hardly.” I stare at her.
“Jeez, I saw it in a movie once... Anyhow, you crapped the bed. You made her feel like less, like she was stupid for taking care of me. You came off like a big gross snob.”
“You two keep twisting my words,” I say bitterly. “You’ve known me my whole life, Destiny. Have you ever heard me shit on the homeless even once? Have you forgotten the times I brought you to my charity events, where I gladly served them coffee myself? I could’ve easily passed it off to a subordinate.”
“Yeah, well. Not until that day at Eliza’s place—”
“When I was upset—furious—that my beloved daughter was robbed and assaulted?” I exhale slowly. “You and Eliza can call me a Scrooge on steroids, but facts are facts. There’s no denying the fact that crimes are sharply higher there, and wherever there’s more crime, the more you’re likely to be a victim. Numbers don’t lie.”
She sighs. “You are so determined to screw this up, aren’t you?”
“I’m not,” I flare, unsure why I’m taking love advice from my fifteen-year-old daughter. I punch down the privacy screen. “Tom, take us back to the office.”
“Will do, Mr. Lancaster.”
By the time he’s turning around, the rain is moving in sheets. If I stuck my hand out the window, I’d barely see it in this mess.
“Mr. Lancaster,” Tom says a minute later.
“Yeah?”
“If this weather gets much worse, I might need to pull over for safety.”
I nod when he looks back in the rearview mirror, but I’m not feeling generous.
“Goddamned great,” I mutter. “Now I’m going to be delayed by weather.”
“Good news—she’ll be delayed by the rain too if she’s leaving,” Destiny says. “But why are we going back to the office? How will that solve anything?”
“She works fourteen-hour days. It’s a miracle if she ever ducks out before seven o’clock unless I make her. I’ll simply catch her there and apologize right now. I’ll make this right.” I pause. “And you, young lady, are staying in the car.”
“Not fair!” she hisses.
I nod firmly, holding in a chuckle.
Grinning, Destiny reaches across the car and hugs me with all her might.
