Page 115 of Possession

And he didn’t tell me.

I cross my arms, fuming in the backseat. “Don’t be angry.”

I scoff. “Who said I’m angry?”

Lars gives me a knowing look in the mirror.

“I’m not angry!” I insist, even though my tone is a little too sharp to be convincing.

A beat of silence passes.

Then, his voice is lower, more measured. “My past is complicated, Megan.”

I exhale, trying to temper my annoyance.

“There’s no need to explain,” I say, even though Idowant an explanation.

“Then why are you angry?”

“Oh my God, Lars.” I throw my hands up. “I said I’mnotangry!”

A long pause.

Then, finally—his voice drops into something quieter.

“My Elsa is twenty-four years old.”

That stuns me into silence.

“Twenty-four?” I echo.

Lars nods. “Her mother moved her to London when she was small.” He exhales, his fingers tightening slightly around the steering wheel. “Today was the first time I’ve spoken to her in three years.”

My stomach twists.

Shit.

“And I interrupted that?” I whisper.

“It’s fine.” He shrugs. “The call was basically over.”

I frown. “You haven’t spoken to your daughter in three years, and the call wasover?”

His jaw tightens. “I’m done talking now.”

And just like that, the wall is back up.

I stare at him, my chest aching with something I can’t quite name.

I’ve spent my life yearning for the kind of father that Lars could have been. A father who protected, cared, loved.

I bet his daughter doesn’t even know how lucky she is.

***

The moment I step into my new studio, my breath catches.

It’s beautiful.

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