Page 160 of Head Over Heels

She eyed me firmly over the rim of her glasses. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I shook my head with a wry grin. “Where is he?”

“Waiting very impatiently for his breakfast,” she whispered as we turned the corner from the foyer toward the dining room. “You have ten minutes, young lady, and I’m coming in with his omelette whether you’re done or not.”

“Ten minutes.” I nodded. “Got it.”

I let out a deep, steadying breath, pulling the manila folder from my laptop bag and clutching it in my hand.

“Don’t be a chickenshit, Ivy,” I whispered. The last time I told myself something similar, I’d been staring down an empty house that felt so much more symbolic than it actually was. In that way, it was a lot like this one.

Life happened in the walls of a house, people made decisions to grow and change, sometimes pushing past the confines of how they’d been raised. My mom had done that.

I didn’t remember her, and I had no way of knowing that if she was around, how she might advise me.

But it didn’t matter.

I pushed open the door and took great pleasure in my father’s double take over the edge of his newspaper.

“Good morning,” I told him. I pulled out my usual chair, across from his, and I sat down, crossing my legs and settling my manila folder onto the glossy surface of the table.

The vein in his temple throbbed, and his eye twitched.

“I didn’t like how we ended things on our phone call. And chasing you through voicemails and messages doesn’t hold much appeal to me right now.”

Carefully, he folded his newspaper and set it down on the table without a sound. “What is this?”

“A reckoning, I think you’d call it.”

His sigh was loud and overflowing with annoyance. It made me want to scream, but I kept my face even. “Ivy,” he started. “I don’t have?—”

“Time,” I interrupted. “Yes, I’m aware. Which is why I came now while your breakfast is”—I glanced down at my watch—“about seven minutes later than normal, am I right? Ruth should be in here any minute, so I’ll make this quick.”

“I didn’t say you could come home,” he snapped.

I met his gaze unflinchingly. “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t ask to.”

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I didn’t ask to come home,” I repeated calmly. “I’m staying in Oregon for…” I blew out a slow breath. “I don’t know how long.”

My dad’s head reared back as if I’d slapped him. “Excuse me?”

“I’m staying in Sisters for the foreseeable future.” I nodded to the folder. “That’s for you, if you’re interested. With the sale of the house and Mom’s trust, I can turn around and invest in at least five other buildings if I wanted to. I don’t know if I do or not, but I have more than enough capital to start my own business. Invest in whatever the hell I want to. I can live a happy, successful life, even if I never see another dime from you.”

Numbly, he leaned forward and plucked the folder off the table, flipping through the real estate listings I’d printed off. They weren’t necessary. Not for me.

“You …” His voice trailed off. “I don’t understand.”

“I met someone,” I told him.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh for God’s sake, Ivy.”

“No,” I said firmly. “I’m telling you this as a courtesy and nothing more. Even if I hadn’t met him, I wouldn’t be ready to come back here right now.” I held his gaze and let him see exactly how much he’d hurt me. “I am your daughter. I am not your employee, and I should matter more to you than your investment in my schooling and upbringing. So if you want any chance of a future where you and I can coexist, you’ll listen to what I’m saying.”

And just like that, my dad sat back, a slight furrow in his brow, and he kept his mouth shut.

When a thousand words crowded my throat, I realized that maybe I should have practiced this part. I’d only gotten so far as the dramatic, boss-bitch entrance. Briefly, I closed my eyes and pulled only the most important words from the safest little corner of my heart.

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