Page 69 of The Perfect Mistake

“Had a good day?”

“Yes,” I say and take a deep breath. “But the piano recital was challenging.”

His eyebrows lower. “How so?”

“Willa was really upset that you weren’t there on time.”

“She was?”

“Yes,” I say. Upset might even be an understatement, and as I think back on her sad expression, my voice hardens. “No nanny in the world is going to be a stand-in for a parent.”

His own expression harshens, all openness swept away. “I know that.”

“Then you should start acting like it.”

“I work,” he says. “And I do it for them.”

“Yeah, but they don’t know that, and they won’t remember that. What they will remember is your absence.” I cross my arms over my chest. “But I can understand that part. What I don’t understand is the lack of… Look, why does Willa have to play the piano?”

“What?”

“Why the piano?” I ask. “She doesn’t like her lessons.”

“I’m aware.” His voice lowers, and I know I’m on shaky territory. “But she will enjoy it later on. Learning a skill isn’t always fun. You probably know that better than me.”

“I do, but I wanted to learn ballet. Does she want to learn the piano?”

“She will. I played the piano for fourteen years growing up,” he says. “I know it’s not always fun.”

My eyebrows rise. “You did? Does Willa know that?”

“She knows I used to play.”

“Then you teach her. At least practice with her every now and then! Make her understand why it’s fun and why it matters. She wants your attention and your time so badly, and most of all she wants your approval.”

Alec’s eyes narrow. “My approval,” he repeats.

“Yes. You mean well,” I say. “I know that, I’ve seen that, but they don’t need Contron to go from the forty-eighth biggest company in the country to the forty-fifth or something. They need to make core memories with you instead.”

“Fifty-third,” he mutters. But he runs a hand over his nape, face still set in hard lines.

“I don’t mean to overstep, and truthfully, I already have… but I’ve heard from Connie about how you guys were raised. I know it wasn’t always hands-on, at least not after your mother died. I don’t think you should do what your dad did.”

He just stares at me.

I stare back, and I know I’m about to get fired. What happened between us the other night will never happen again. And maybe that’s why I’m so frustrated, because he drew the boundary and gave me a task I don’t know if I can rise to.

I lean against the counter. “That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say, and… I get that it might have been hard to hear.”

Understatement.

He runs a hand over his jaw. It’s clenched tight. “Well, you obviously don’t have a problem communicating clearly with me when you’re angry.”

My eyebrows rise. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s easier to focus on than the comments about me being a bad father.”

“That’s not what I said.”

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