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Funny that she brings up the one thing that’s the least of my concerns, though it’s hard for me to believe she’s only five years older than me. “Daddy has always dated younger women. At least since—” I freeze, realizing I’m about to bring up my dead mother. “Anyway, that’s not an issue for me. So long as you two love each other, that’s what matters.”
Her lips pull apart in a smile, and she turns to get some fresh whipped cream from the fridge. “We do. He’s so smart and he obviously loves you so much. You’re the light of his life. I think that’s the first thing that drew me to him, the way he sparkles when he talks about you.”
“He does have his sparkly ways,” I laugh, wiping the pie cutter on a napkin. “Didn’t know he sparkled when he talked about me, though. I don’t know if my ego can handle it.”
“Oh, he does.” Greer pushes the fridge door closed and leans against it. “And I wasn’t going to bring it up but I feel so comfortable around you.”
“Bring what up?”
She rubs her lips together and searches my face for a moment. “I don’t have children of my own. And I don’t really think I’ll be able to. So I’m hoping you and I can get to know each other and … be close.”
“Oh … I …”I don’t know about that, is what almost comes out.
She puts a hand on my arm. “I know I’m not old enough to be your mother. And I’m not trying to replace Mona. I just want you to know I’m in this for the long haul.”
I’m not sure why she feels the need to convince me so hard that she’s not just my dad’s fuck buddy of the month. Maybe she’s trying to convince herself. Or maybe she really is that nuts about my dad and she thinks if she and I are close he won’t dump her.
Because Daddy always does the dumping. Not the other way around.
“Maybe when things slow down for me at work in the next few weeks, you and I can spend some time together Christmas shopping. Or getting the house decorated. Whatever. I know Daddy says he doesn’t care about those things but once they’re up he’s always so cheerful.”
She laughs. “Isn’t that always the way with a man.”
“Sandy usually takes care of it but I’m sure she’d love a hand. Especially with you moving in.”
Greer lets out a sigh and starts walking back to the dining room. “I haven’t moved all my things in yet. There’s so much stuff to whittle down. Hopefully I can have it all done before too long.”
Over dessert, Daddy lets me know he’s staying home for Thanksgiving. Meaning he’ll be here from Wednesday to Sunday. The past three years he’s left on Black Friday to handle business overseas. But he wants to start limiting how much traveling he does. I can only assume it’s because he now has a reason to stay put, and that reason is sitting at the table where my mother used to sit.
“Maybe you can spend the weekend here, like old times,” he suggests.
Old times. Haven’t had those in a while. Before I met Devin, I regularly spent weekends here at home, even after I got Ritz. I think Daddy was having a hard time adjusting to me moving out because he was constantly asking me to stay. When Devin moved in with me, that changed. Now, I guess it’s back to that.
“I think I can manage that. I’ll pack a bag for Ritz too, so he doesn’t get lonely.”
“Wonderful. And yes, Ritz is always welcome here, as are you, my darling.” He winks at me and places his hand over mine, beaming until crow’s feet fan from his eyes. Daddy’s smile has always lit up his whole face. You can’t look at him like this and not smile back. Even Greer is infected, her lips pulled apart as she watches him adore me.
Yeah, this feels good. Daddy is the only family I’ll ever need. Well, Daddy and Rigger.
He sips his coffee and I think to myself how good it feels to just exist, to be where I’m loved and accepted. Daddy has always made me feel that way, that I don’t have to be anyone other than who I am.
But sadly, there’s this little part of me that he’s completely unaware of. So does he really know the real me?
I find myself fearfully daydreaming what my father, Stig Nilssen, aka CEO of Nilssen Designs and a local household name, would do if he knew his daughter was a cold-blooded killer. Would he lump me in with the men my mother hung out with all those years ago? Or would he see me for the feminine vigilante that I am?
I would hope the latter. But I also hope I never have to find out what he would think.
A buzzing sounds and he reaches back, patting his pocket and retrieving his phone.
“I should have turned this off. I’m sorry for the interruption.” Laying the phone on the table he glances at the screen, then slowly and carefully lifts it, his eyes moving back and forth.
“Stig? Who is it?”
His eyes lift, and then he rubs his chin, pushing the phone away.
“No one. Just … someone I knew years ago has died.”
“Oh, love. I’m so sorry. Was it a close friend?” Greer reaches over, rubs his shoulder.
