Page 59 of Mocha Kisses

“Investors? It’s a publishing company. Yana, what are you doing?” This is supposed to be a cover release. We’re not opening a children’s hospital. The vast majority of the suited individuals here don’t seem to care one bit about the semi-famous author currently standing in their midst. “Does Max know about this?”

“He doesn’t need to. I’m helping keep this company afloat.” She taps the table in warning, catching my attention. “You make sure this goes off without a hitch and I leave you alone. Max has already got your next project lined up for you.” Then Yana steps away, donning a huge smile and introducing herself to an older gentleman I know for a fact isn’t one of Griffin’s target audience. “Is this usually what you deal with?”

Griffin shrugs and helps me into a seat before sitting down himself. He turns the microphones sitting on the table away from us so that we can talk. “There are investors that work with Shepard’s Press but mostly these are possible individuals that might boost the books Shepard’s Press endorses and contracts. There’s filmmakers and journalists and such. The fans aren’t invited to these. They hang out at the actual release parties which are a day or two after the book is released and those are always held at the publishing company itself or near it. Knowing Yana, she’ll set something up as a pre-order party just to get the word out.”

“That’s annoying.” I reach for one of the books stacked in the corner, my eyes growing wide at the beautiful picture. Yellow flowers adorn the front, chains, and a skull embedded into the picture. Having read Risky Taste several times, Noah’s story is near and dear to my heart. It’s been beautifully placed into this cover and it’s like I’m reading it all over again. I’m just glad that Noah found his happy ending and that fucking brother of his found his doom. “This is gorgeous.”

“Yeah, Nea’s work is always spot on.” He puts his hand out for the book. “She’s one of the only ones that ever reads my shit to make sure that the cover and formatting match the vibe of my books.”

I run my hand across the cover and then open the book to several blank pages. “These books are empty.”

“Did you think they wouldn’t be? This is just for the press. That’s why the manuscript doesn’t have to be finished until the end of this week for formatting. The actual release date is a month or two from now. Not sure. This one’s kind of up in the air.” Griffin shrugs and replaces the book to the stack it came from before flashing me a winning smile that I can tell is for the sudden flash that joins us. Someone yells ‘kiss your wife’ and Griffin does just that, scooting my chair closer to kiss my cheek. I try hard not to blush, wholly uncomfortable.

I love performing in front of others but not like this. Never like this.

The afternoon passes in a whirl of chaos as Yana rejoins us, Griffin speaking about his book as if he isn’t terrified of being outside. Then I’m introduced, a chorus of claps and a few ‘woohoos’ thrown out into the crowd. They aren’t very enthusiastic about the woman by his side but I can feel the temperature in the room change, just as the aura does. It’s almost as if Griffin becomes more than just a tatted bad boy writing books and a man who has found the love of his life, settled down, and started a career.

It’s a stupid, minute distinction to twist his entire personality on its head because he has a wife but that’s exactly what just happened. Yana steals the microphone and talks all about our love story, which is fucking odd since it’sourlove story. She’s playing the part of a mother-in-law or an auntie, spouting shit she shouldn’t know. With every growing moment, I mentally curl into myself. Yana makes my skin crawl and I don’t like it when she asks everyone to clap for Griffin’s new relationship. I hate it even more when she bends down between us, whispers ‘behave’, and then kisses my cheek.

We stand as she departs and I frantically look around for an escape. Standing in the limelight is definitely not for me. “Griffin, I-”

He twists me around to face him, curling an arm around my waist. The gesture is both for comfort and for the press, another collective ‘awww’ spreading through the crowd. Griffin reaches up with his other hand and caresses the side of my face. “You’re not running, are you?”

“No,” I say, wanting to find comfort in his embrace. “I just need a minute to breathe. The bathroom? Something.” Griffin nods to someone behind me and I turn to find Rome’s hand outstretched for me to take. I sag in relief as I press a delicate kiss to Griffin’s lips and then slip off the makeshift stage to escape to the bathroom. I slip my arm through his as we weave through the crowd, Rome depositing me near one of the stalls that’s away from the main traffic. “I’m not running,” I state.

“Didn’t think you were. Shit like this is a bit much if you’re new to it. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah. I think. I don’t like Yana.”

“None of us do. Go on. I’ll be right out here.”

I squeeze his arm in lieu of a kiss before slipping into the bathroom. It’s much darker than I thought, dark greens and navy blues flowing across the sinks and the stall doors. The tiles are a metallic black that have been thoroughly polished, so much so that I make sure to keep my thighs together so it doesn’t reflect the bright pink panties I’m wearing.

Making my way to a sink, I grip the edge and bend over it, taking several deep breaths to soothe my anxiety. Griffin does shit like this repeatedly? I can’t even imagine and someone like Nova having to weather his emotions to deal with people? A sordid laugh tears from my throat, the sound echoing through the small space. He’s going to have a lot of pent-up frustration that’s going to need an outlet. I am 100% on board with that.

I think I might even be ready for all of them.

Shaking my head at the stupid thoughts running through it, I flip on the faucet to rinse my face. Thank god I’ve stopped wearing makeup or I wouldn’t be able to enjoy this little bit of relief.

A stall door bangs open and I straighten up, my eyes widening at the image reflecting at me. It’s the same man from outside my window last week and if Rome is right, it’s my father. I couldn’t see it then but I see the similarities now. We share the same mop of curls, although his are much shorter, the same big brown eyes, nose, and lips. In this moment, I can see that I look more like John Williamson than my mother and I fucking hate it.

My gaze darts to the door and he smirks. “Don’t. Just pay the fucking bills, Luna.”

I’ve thought about this moment several times. Thought about what I’d do—if I’d scream and cower, if I’d kick him in the balls, if I’d just run. I don’t feel like doing anything other than getting answers. His presence angers me rather than terrifies me. The first thing out of his mouth is to pay off his fucking loan? Yeah, fuck that. He’s the reason I haven’t been able to live a normal life.

“Why the fuck would I do that? You took out the loan and I’m supposed to pay it? You know, two weeks ago, I didn’t even know what you looked like!” I keep my voice down, knowing full well that Rome will bust his way in here and deal with this on his own. It’s dangerous to stay here but I need to do this. For me. I’ve earned that much and when I’m done, I’ll scream bloody murder so Rome can take care of this shitbag. “How did you even know I’d come here?”

“I know my daughter. I’ve been watching you for years. I know all about you and I knew you wouldn’t use one of the bathrooms in the main hall.” John shrugs and leans back against one of the pillars as if we’re just having a conversation. Like he hadn’t taken out a million-dollar loan and shoved it on me and my mother. Like he hadn’t resurfaced andstillwants me on the hook.

My face mirrors my rage as I try to hold my tongue. Is he trying to get under my skin or just saying shit he thinks is true? I turn around to face the man who’s responsible for my existence and the way it turned out. He’s not daunting in the way I thought he might be. He’s much thinner and older than I figured he’d be and yet he’s ruined years of what could have been good memories. “You’re a horrible father. You don’t have a daughter. You have offspring. You never gave a crap about me or my mother while we were struggling. What was the loan even for? A million dollars can do a lot of damage,John.”

He cringes at the name. Maybe he thought I’d call him dad. Fat chance. “Business venture. Just needed a few dollars to start up a few things. The time got away from me and I never planned on paying back. Then I made a mistake and well, you’re the perfect way to get out of my troubles.”

There’s too many things wrong with that statement. First, that I’m a mistake. He never meant to have me but now I’m the scapegoat. The fact that he thinks people aren’t still looking for him while also terrorizing me is laughable. Rome mentioned something just before we went inside—that the hunt for my father was still on. Paula’s Agency didn’t care who paid back the loan, just that someone did. Which meant if John Williamson was delivered to their doorstep, I’d be off the hook.

“John, everything you’ve said doesn’t make me want to take the hit for you. I’ve been running for six fucking years becauseyouhave money problems.” I step closer to him, jabbing him in the chest. His eyes darken but he does nothing to push me off.

“Should have taken the job they offered.”

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