Sonya didn’t want me to be around because Jasper was too cool for me.
I didn’t know what to be more heartbroken over—the fact my best friend now dated the boy who I thought was the love of my life. Or, the fact my best friend had now written me out of her life because I embarrassed her.
Either way, the plan of going to the lake house for the summer, couldn’t have come at a better time.
***
I sat alone on the jetty for a while before my father joined me. He settled in beside me with his legs dangling a few feet above the water too.
“It’s nice out here, right?” he said.
“How’d you notice? You’ve been working ever since we got here,” I grumbled.
According to him, the lake house belonged to a business associate of his who had kindly lent it to us for the summer. But it looked like—in exchange of the favor, they also expected my father to be available for business meetings whenever they wanted. He’d been gone for hours every day since we arrived.
He threw an arm around me now, drawing me close to him.
“I’m sorry for being busy, honey. I promise I’ll wrap things up quickly so we can spend more time together.”
I pushed his arm away and continued staring out at the sky. I preferred to be alone with my thoughts. And it seemed like my father understood. We just sat in silence there for a long while before he spoke again.
“Mom told me about what happened with Sonya.”
I turned to him with an angry jerk.
“Why can’t she keep a secret?” I snapped.
“I’ll tell you a secret, honey. The key to a good marriage is honesty and loyalty. Your mother and I tell each other everything,” he said, smiling softly.
I rolled my eyes at that. It wasn’t the moment to give me a lesson on marriage and relationships.
My father held his hands up in surrender.
“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m not going to pry. I just wanted you to know that I’m here if you want to talk, Elsie.”
The truth was; I did want to talk to him. Ever since I was a little girl, it was my father whom I felt was the one person who truly understood me. Except, in this instance, I had no words to describe to him how I felt. The betrayal, the pain, the hopelessness. I didn’t think he’d understand because he wasn’t a twelve year old girl.
My father searched my eyes and I looked away.
“No?” he asked.
“What do you want me to say? You said Mom’s told you everything already.”
“But you haven’t.”
“I have nothing to add,” I snapped.
“What Sonya has done is not fair. It’s a bad move for a friend, and someday, she’s going to regret it. One day, she’s going to grow up and look back on your friendship and realize how stupid she was for pushing you away when you were the best friend she could’ve ever asked for.”
As much as I tried to ignore my father’s words and continue brooding; he had an effect on me. A positive effect.
My shoulders heaved and I breathed in deeply with emotion. I had to put the book down. The idea that Sonya would some day regret her actions, made me feel good about myself.
Then he put a hand over mine and smiled, looking deeper into my eyes.
“Don’t ever let anyone make you feel worthless, Elsie, because you are worth everything. Anybody with a brain in their head would know how special you are. And if they don’t then they’re not worth your time or your friendship or your love, someone else is.”
I threw myself at him and he wrapped me with his arms. I broke down for the first time since Sonya said those mean things to me. I cried on my father’s shoulder and he didn’t have to say anything more. He’d done his job.
***
Present Day
I thought about Dad as I stared out the window of the penthouse apartment in the kind of apartment building I’d never normally have access to. It had a fabulous view of the Hudson, of the rest of Manhattan. I was transfixed by the view and wrapped in thoughts of my father and everything I’d learned from him. I missed him. As confusing as those emotions felt right now.
I heard movement behind me, realizing Tristan was back in the room. He said he had to talk to his brother and he went to the other room to make the call.
In the few hours since the previous night I’d spent in Tristan Doherty’s company—the one thing I’d gotten to know about him was he was a man of few words.
Tristan was not a big talker. If he’d met my father, Dad would’ve encouraged him to come to terms with his emotions, to talk about his feelings, to open up. But my father wasn’t here, he’d never be here. And more importantly, Tristan Doherty would probably never appreciate the wisdom my father had to offer. He wasn’t that kind of guy.
I turned to look at him. He was focused on his phone, scrolling, typing, looking busy. There was no denying he was sexy. In the kind of way I’d never considered within-reach before.
Tall, muscular, dangerous, his arms covered in intricate tribal tattoos, his eyes so green and his jaws so sharp and chiseled, he actually looked like European royalty. Well, in a way, he kind of was.
“How was the phone call? What did your brother say?” I asked, making him look up at me.
It was like I was addicted to sinking into his eyes.
Tristan clenched his jaws and breathed in deeply. I sensed this wasn’t going to be good.
“He told me not to trust you,” he replied.
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