I scroll through the listings, each one requiring experience I don't have or skills I've never needed to develop. What exactly am I qualified for? Drinking expensive bourbon and failing upward through life on my father's reputation? Not much call for that at minimum wage.
My phone buzzes. For a split second, my heart stops because I think it’s Tiff, but no. I’m not that lucky. It’s Asher again.
With a sigh, I finally answer. “What?”
“Oh, he lives,” Asher says. “I was starting to think your dad actually killed you.”
“Not yet. Though I'm sure he's working on it.”
“Dude, you need to hear this.” His voice drops, suddenly serious. “Your dad’s losing it. He’s not just pissed at you—He’s—planning something. My dad mentioned lawyers, and some kind of emergency filing. I don’t know the details, but—”
“Let him plan.” I laugh bitterly. “What’s he going to do? Take away the money? He’s already done that. There’s nothing else he can hurt me with.”
“This is Jonathan Nicks we’re talking about—”
“I know,” I snap, then immediately feel guilty. Asher is only trying to help. “Sorry, I’m just… it’s been a long couple of weeks.”
“How’s it going? With your kid?”
The question softens me immediately. “Her name's Ella,” I say, unable to keep the smile out of my voice. “And she's… she's perfect, Asher. She likesIced Outand tells terrible jokes and falls asleep holding onto my shirt like—” My throat tightens. “Like she already trusts me even though she has no reason to.”
“Damn.” Asher is quiet for a moment. “So you're really doing this. Playing house in the middle of nowhere.”
“I'm not playing anything,” I say, defensively. “This is real.She'sreal.”
“I know, I know.” Asher's tone softens. “I'm just saying… you actually walked away from everything. For a kid you just met.”
“Not just for her.” I can’t help it. I immediately start to think about Tiff’s lips against mine two nights ago, marred only by the fact she shut it all down after. “Some things are still… complicated.”
“Tiff?”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I may have… fucked that up already.”
“Shocker,” Asher deadpans. “What’d you do?”
“Kissed her.”
“And?”
“And she told me I’m here for Ella, not for her. She set up boundaries and made it very clear that whatever happened four years ago should stay there.”
Asher whistles low. “Ouch.”
“She’s right, though.” I stand, pacing again. “I need to prove I’m not here because of some romanticized memory or because I’m running from my family. I’m here for my daughter.”
“But you’re also here for her.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” I say. “What matters is Ella. What matters is showing up, consistently, without ulterior motives.”
“Noble,” Asher says. “Stupid, but noble.”
“Fuck off.”
He laughs. “I'm just saying, you can want both things. You can want to be a good dad and want to be with the girl who—and I quote from your drunk ass four years ago—'made you feel like a human being for the first time in your life.'“
I sink back onto the bed. “I told you that?”
“You called me at three in the morning, crying about some mystery girl from my party. Said you'd never felt so seen. Then, right after the emotional breakdown, you apologized for usingmy nameto get her into bed. Classy.”