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It would help to talk this out. Except, with who?

It would be awkward to talk to Cam. How do I tell my big brother that our father, the man who kidnapped his daughter, wants to talk to me? And forget talking to Chase. Walter made his life miserable and treated him like shit—something that really didn’t hit home until he told us Chase is not his biological son. Chase has every right to hate him.

That day, Walter changed so many things in my life.

I used to love my daddy. He was my reprieve from Marilyn. I was his little girl. But that all changed when I grew up. When I saw how cruel he was with my brother, I couldn’t believe he was the same dad who used to carry me on his shoulders. Then, the incident happened, and I was done with him.

The image sneaks in my head so quicky. Walter walking out of the room. His friend smiling so wide and sitting next to me. Then, me running and him right behind me. Locking myself in the bathroom and calling Chase while panicking.

My heart quickens. No, I won’t think about that day.

I can’t let myself remember how my father was angry at my brother for coming to my rescue instead of at the man who tried to touch me.

It still burns and hurts because Walter is my dad. I envy that Chase can say he’s not related to him, that Walter’s blood is not running through his veins. Cam and I are stuck, but my older brother has found his way out. He’s cut him off, because he’s made a family that has nothing to do with Walter. And he’s keeping Marilyn at bay.

I try, but I can only run so much from her. She’s never far behind, though.

I swallow the lump in my throat and swat at the tears that force themselves to the corners of my eyes. I can’t conjure those memories without triggering myself. Today is not the day to cry, Luciana.

I run upstairs to the third floor. I’ve learned that if I want to keep the tears away, I need to keep busy. Let me go arrange stuff the way I want it before the crew comes back. Here, by myself, I can self-soothe and get emotionally prepared to film. I can cry myself to sleep tonight. For now, I just need to hold on and work.

I make it up the stairs and stop dead in my tracks as I look to the back of the room.

Wow.

It looks amazing. The desk is set, the lights are off, but the walls are pristine, showcasing canvases of New York. The big desk I chose to match the one in Cam’s office, except in blue-green wood, reigns in the middle of the space.

Ollie’s crew has already installed one of the sky boxes. It looks exactly the way I dreamed it would. And for some reason I can’t explain, that makes the tears spill. I should be happy. My dream is coming true, but the mere mention of Walter’s name, the simple implication that he wants to see me, brings me down like a boulder. It’s the memories. They darken a day full of beauty.

“If it’s wrong, we can fix it.”

My blood freezes in my veins, and I whip around so fast I drop my bag. My hand goes straight to my chest. Oliver is on the unfinished side of the room. He’s kneeling on the floor.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here. We’re filming.”

He stands slowly. “You told me I could come and do some inspection.”

My heart is still hammering in my chest, and I keep thinking. I did tell him to come by yesterday. I forgot after talking to Marilyn, because that is what she does, upends my world.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I guess I forgot for a minute.”

I run my hand through my hair and bend to pick up the tote. Some of the things I brought up spilled out.

The make-up palette I wanted to wear cracked.

“Oh no.”

Ollie is by my side in my next breath. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head but then nod. “I’m fine. I need to arrange some of these things on the desk. I want this stuff to look authentic, and I wanted to feature that eyeshadow palette but dropped it like an idiot.”

I reach down, but he grabs my hand in his. “There’s glass. Let me get it. I’m sure you have more makeup.”

My gaze snaps to his. The look on his face tells me he doesn’t understand.

“This palette comes from a small business. It’s this young woman who created her own makeup line to support her family. If I talk about her, it could help her sales. Now I can’t do that because it’s ruined.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I don’t understand a lot about this,” he says.