Page 64 of Role Play (Off the Books #1)

“No, Sora, what I’m saying is that reading my mistakes helps me understand how to fix them.

See, I need you to publish book two, because I really, really need to know they have a happily-ever-after.

That’s what all you romance writers do, right?

Rainbows and sunshine at the end?” He gives me a teasing smile.

“Don’t make fun of us,” I say, glowering.

“I’m not. Rainbows and sunshine sound wonderful.”

“I don’t have the ending quite right,” I whisper, my throat tight with unexpected emotion. I run my fingers over the cover, feeling the slight indentations of the spot-glossed title.

“How’s it end?”

“They don’t end up together. They go their separate ways, and find a different kind of happiness. She remarries. He ends up alone.”

Dad shoots me a look. “Yeah, that’s no good.”

“Gee, thanks,” I mutter. “It may not be rainbows and sunshine, but it’s realistic.”

“Maybe I can help you,” he offers. “Let me read it. Let’s write a new ending…together.” He grabs my hand and clutches it tightly in his stiff fingers. “One where he’s forgiven, and by some miracle, his family gives him another chance to make things right. Something that heals.”

I squeeze his hand right back. “You’d do that? I thought you were going to be busy in Hollywood.”

“I’m moving back to New York. I’m leaving the show as a producer.”

“What? But what if they screw up your story? I thought you were there to police them a little.”

He smiles slightly, the expression transforming his face, softening the hard lines.

“So they screw it up. They’ll have hell to pay with the die-hard fans, but that’s the director’s battle to fight.

As for me? I’m going back to life before success warped everything.

They don’t need me hovering over everyone’s shoulder. ”

“Wow.” I’m genuinely shocked. Dad has been obsessed with controlling every aspect of the adaptation, treating it like his legacy, his immortality. “I can’t believe you’re choosing to walk away.”

“I’m choosing what matters.” The resolve on his face is determined. Full of confidence in his decision. “Your mother, for one.”

“Mom?” I can’t hide my surprise.

“That night opened my eyes,” he admits. “Seeing Jennifer again, hearing her defend you…it reminded me of who she is. Who we were together. I’ve spent too many years chasing success, validation, acclaim.

And for what? To come home to an empty house?

To have my only daughter afraid to answer my calls? ”

“I wasn’t afraid,” I protest automatically, but we both know it’s not entirely true.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Sora. And I don’t blame you.” He takes his hand back, rubbing it furiously against the other, trying to produce some warmth. “I’ve been a harsh critic when I should have been your biggest fan. That ends now. So I’d love to help you with your story, if you let me.”

“I’d love that, Dad.” Truer words have never been spoken.

“But under one condition,” he says sternly.

“I want you to stop trying so hard to win my respect, my love, my approval.” His voice roughens with emotion, cracking slightly on the last word.

“You’ve had it all along, Sora. I’m sorry I failed to show you that.

But it also doesn’t matter. Be the person you want to be.

Not the person anyone else thinks you should be. ”

Tears sting my eyes, hot against the cold night air. “All right,” I promise with a sniffle. “From now on I won’t give a rat’s ass what you think of me.” I flash him a shit-eating grin.

“Attagirl.”

“So you and Mom are…?”

“Taking things slow,” he says with a small shrug. “But she’s agreed to give me another chance. Which is more than I deserve, honestly.”

“And you’re moving back to New York?” I parrot, trying to process this sudden shift in our family dynamic.

He nods.

“Do you want the brownstone back?” I ask quickly, thinking of the fort we set up in the living room, of Dakota’s stuffed animals lined up on the window seat, of Forrest’s coffee mug in the sink. My stomach fills with lead when I think about letting my newfound sense of happiness go.

“No. I gave it to you. It’s yours ,” Dad says with a knowing look, a ghost of his old mischievous grin appearing. “It’s probably ruined anyway, thanks to all the canoodling you’ve been doing with your boyfriend.”

My face heats up despite the cold, the blush spreading from my cheeks down my neck. “Um…no…we don’t.”

“Spare me.” He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. “And that Forrest fellow seems decent enough, despite our spat.”

“He was defending me,” I say, feeling the need to clarify even as I marvel at how easily my father is accepting Forrest’s presence in my life.

“I know.” Dad’s expression turns serious again, the lines around his eyes deepening. “That’s why I liked him, even while I wanted to punch him. Any man who will stand up to J.P. Cooper to protect my daughter is worth keeping around.”

If only he knew the complications lurking beneath that simple assessment. The thought of Forrest, where he is tonight, what he’s doing, sends fresh pulses of pain through me. But that’s a conversation for another time. My heart is still feebly beating, fueled by this unexpected reconciliation.

A few snowflakes begin to fall, delicate and evanescent, melting almost as soon as they touch the ground. It’s too early in the season for snow that sticks, but the brief white flurry adds a magical quality to the night.

“Should we head back?” Dad asks, standing and offering me his hand. “It’s getting late, and I have a feeling you have a lot to think about.”

I take his hand, the familiar calluses on his fingertips—writer’s calluses, just like mine—a small testament to our shared DNA, our shared passion.

“Dad,” I say, as we near the brownstone, our walk coming to a close. “The second book in the duet…”

“Yeah?”

“It’s called Lonely. I know the cover designer will probably be pissed, and I’ll have hoops to jump through with the publishing platform to update the metadata, but if we rewrite the ending, the title doesn’t seem to fit after tonight.”

I wrote Lovely because it’s how I think of my mother. And now, I don’t want to think of my dad as lonely anymore.

“What do you think fits better?” he asks, taking the concrete steps leading up to my front door slowly.

I stop behind him, before the first step, and look up at my dad’s figure.

With him three steps ahead, he looks so much taller.

It reminds me of how I saw him when I was a little girl.

The hero I always idolized…finally acting like a real hero.

Coming full circle, fighting off his demons, and circling back to rescue his family from missing him.

Righting wrongs, and fighting the beast of remorse.

“ Legendary ,” I answer. “That’s what I’ll call it.”