Page 12

Olivia

“D ad…” I rub my temples to ease the headache I feel forming in my skull. My hands drop, and I grip the kitchen counter, spinning my coffee mug with one hand.

“You know I just want the best for you,” he continues, scrambling the eggs on the kitchen stove.

Despite the event ending no later than ten last night, I practically had to drag myself out of bed to have breakfast with Dad like I promised. We used to do this at least once a week, but life has gotten busier in recent years. Even so, we’ve made a habit of meeting around the anniversary of Mom’s death.

He arrived promptly at seven this morning, brandishing an amber bottle of sparkling soda from a brand we both like. One of which he split between two crystal glasses shortly after arriving. Opposite my coffee mug, I now sip on a glass while watching him cook.

He continues, back still to me, “Chase is a nice man. Better than most of those boys you’ve dated. He’s well-off and-“

I lift my head from my hand with a sigh. “It’s not about Chase.”

“He’s a gentleman!” he insists.

“Saying Sir and holding a door open doesn’t make you a gentleman,” I remind him though I doubt that he’s still listening.

“Well, he does all of that and more.”

We’ve had this conversation several times already. Or some adjacent variation. He’s tried his hand at setting me up multiple times, and the dates have more often than not ended in disaster. Complete and utter disaster.

I want to believe that my dad’s intentions are pure. In theory, he wants me to have what he had with Mom. Love. Joy. Safety. I’d like to think it’s what any parent wants for their children.

In actuality, he wants me to find someone and settle down. Get married. Have babies. Spend the rest of my days contentedly living life as the trophy wife to a man he approves of… Somehow, any say I have on the matter is trampled on. Every single time.

“Still not the point, Dad. You’re not listening to me.”

He turns, holding a plate of half-burnt toast and eggs. “Then what is this about?”

“It’s about you selling me off on a date without my permission.”

He sets the plate down in front of me before plopping down in a chair with his own. “Okay,” he concedes. “I’m sorry I went behind your back, Button. I am. Please, just tell me you won’t cancel the date.”

I’m considering it , I want to say.

After Chase Sutherland approached me last night, I can’t exactly say I’m looking forward to it. He seems nice enough. He’s handsome. But he also has that trust-fund, Daddy’s-boy air to him. I’ve dated his type before.

And like I said… disaster .

I try not to think of how my last relationship ended. Hurt, alone, and with a heart full of regrets. Not an uncommon experience, I’m sure. But the irony about planning people’s happy endings while not having one of my own is… cruel. It doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it used to. But every time Dad does something like this, I’m reminded of it.

“I’m not making any promises,” I settle on saying, but from the gleam in his eyes, I can tell that I might as well have said Screw it, I’m in .

“This will be good, Button. You’ll see.” He looks so damn sure when he says it that I smile.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen that optimism in him that I don’t want to squash it. I fork around the food on my plate silently before finding it in me to finish breakfast.

“How have things been with Warden and Bishop?”

I nearly forgot that less than a wall away, Taylor is showering and getting ready for the day. Most of the time, I really do forget they’re here. Occasionally I’ll see them for breakfast or coffee, but unless we’re in public, it’s like they’re invisible. Which I appreciate, but… It’s also odd to practically live with two people and have no idea who they are.

I keep the details to a minimum. Dad has two other guards that also trade-off watching him, but he seems wildly unaffected by the change.

The bathroom door pops open, and Taylor steps out dressed in his usual uniform. Slacks, a white shirt, and a gun at his hip. He smiles in greeting before addressing my father. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. I was just asking my daughter how things have been.”

Subject promptly forgotten.

Taylor glances between my father and I, and I let my head drop to my hands, finally admitting defeat. There’s not a chance in hell he'll ever quit his meddling.

Taylor smiles anyways. “I think other than annoying your daughter, things are just peachy.”

“See?” Dad narrows his eyes my way. “I knew things would be going just swell. You know-“

“I’ll let you two catch up,” I bite my cheek as my father continues talking over me, animatedly telling Taylor about some new business deal my dad’s got going with Skar. He failed to mention anything about it to me, but I guess that’s probably because he’s never shared much about his cases before.

Snatching my glass of bubbly water, I wave my goodbye before disappearing into my room for the day.

I’ve still got weddings to plan.