Page 57 of All the Bright Lights

“It doesn’t matter now, anyway.” I try to keep my expression neutral but something must show that gives my father pause.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” I shake my head.

“Do I need tohandlehim?”

This makes me chuckle.

“No.” I shake my head.

“You like him.” It’s not a question.

“I do,” I admit, though after last weekend, I’m not really sure I should. “Are you disappointed?”

“Why on earth would I be disappointed?”

“You taught me to never get involved with a client, especially a famous one.”

“I taught you not to mix business with pleasure. But from what I understand, the house has already sold and you’ve been paid. Is that true?”

“Yes.” I nod.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I just thought… After mom…”

“You thought that I would be upset with you because of your mom’s affair with Bronson.” I nod again. “Clarke, honey, you are not your mother.” He reaches across the table, his large hand settling over my much smaller one. I have to physically fight back tears. “I don’t care if you date a famous billionaire or a man that can barely rub two pennies together. As long as he treats you well and loves you, that’s all I care about.”

“You’re the best dad, you know that?” I blubber.

“Pretty easy when I’ve got a daughter like you.” We both laugh at our own cheesiness. “In all seriousness, though, does he make you happy?”

“Who, Treyton?” I ask unnecessarily.

“No, Jack Black. Yes, Treyton.” Both of my father’s dimples make an appearance as he releases my hand, sitting back in his chair.

“I don’t really know. We’ve only known each other a few short days. I can’t say I really even know him,” I admit. “But as I said, it doesn’t matter now.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Telling my father the whole truth is not an option, so I settle for a half one.

“I just can’t see myself fitting into his life. I need someone who will put me first, not make me feel like I’m last.”

“And being first is nothing less than you deserve. I hope you know, I don’t care who it is or what they do for a living, as long as they make you happy.”

“Thank you.”

Again, I’m fighting off tears. And for obvious reasons.

I’d let what happened with my mom steer me in a certain direction for so long that I never stopped to see that I was blinded by my own ambition to be her polar opposite. Deep down I think I’ve always known my father would support me. But I used him as a crutch because it was easier to blame him than look inward.

“Now, would you do your old man a favor and call your mother back? I know she oversteps but it’s only because she cares.”

“I know.” And I do know. Because while what my mother did was horrible, it doesn’t define who she is, or how lucky I am to have her. It’s just hard to remember sometimes. “And I will call her. I’m honestly surprised she didn’t crash our lunch date.”

“Oh, she tried,” he grunts. “Thought I was going to have to handcuff her to the stair rail.” His shoulders shake with laughter. “Now, when is my second daughter coming to town?”

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