Unease slips over me and I can’t ignore it, even though I want to. This all feels so familiar, like it used to be between the three of us. What hurts is that I thought we’d fixed this. At least, fixed what was broken between me and Mom. My relationship with my father needed some repair, but I wasn’t too worried about it. I knew he’d come around.
Look at him, making me come around first with his present—like a peace offering. He knew I couldn’t stay mad at him if he gave me the one piece of art I wanted more than anything else in the world.
I’m still having a hard time believing that it’s mine.
My father gets a phone call right when the server drops off our bill at the table and he answers it, rising from the booth seat and covering his phone to whisper to us, “I’ll be right back,” before he exits the restaurant.
The moment he’s gone, I glance over at Mom, who’s sitting directly across from me, her concerned gaze meeting mine. “What’s wrong? Tell me you’re not mad at him for getting that piece for me. I know it must’ve cost a lot, but I love it so, so much and I swear I’ll—”
She interrupts me.
“He didn’t get it for you.”
I blink at her, silent for a beat. Trying to comprehend what she just said. “What?”
“He’s lying to you. I knew it from the start, though I didn’t want to believe it.”
“I don’t understand.” I shake my head, baffled.
Mom glances around as if looking for him before she continues, “I know when your father isn’t telling the truth. He didn’t buy that piece for you. I never thought he did.”
“I’m so confused.” My chest aches. I feel like I could burst into tears at any moment. If Daddy didn’t buy it then…
“It was the Lancaster boy, Wren. It had to have been him.”
FIFTY
WREN
“No.” I slide out of the booth and stand, searching the diner for my father, remembering that he’s outside. “No, no, no. He wouldn’t lie to me.”
“Darling. Sit down.” Her voice is firm, her gaze pleading. “We need to talk this through before he comes back.”
I plop on the edge of the booth seat, gripping the table in front of me with achingly cold fingers. I’m numb. Humiliated.
Infuriated.
“Your father has been too busy to go in search of it. And he’s not going to spend that kind of money on a piece right now, no matter how badly you want it. That piece came from Crew Lancaster. And it makes all the sense in the world, don’t you see? He’s been sending you Chanel lipsticks for a week. All leading up to the grand finale. A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime, indeed. The boy is a genius.”
Oh God. She’s right. I know she is. Why didn’t I see it? Because my father interfered and made his claim so quickly? Did I want to believe he would do that for me so badly that I forgot how it didn’t necessarily make sense? Am I that desperate for my father’s love and approval?
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I croak, swallowing down the nausea that threatens.
She scoots my water glass closer to me and I grab it, gulping down half of it in seconds.
“He knows how upset you are with him, and I’ve been upset with him too, with his treatment of you. His treatment of me. I ignored it for far too long and allowed him to spy on you and treat you like an incapable child rather than the smart young woman you’ve become, but no more. You have a good head on your shoulders. Your father doesn’t need to constantly monitor what you want to do. You can make your own decisions,” Mom says with a finality I’ve never heard before.
“You really think so?” My voice is small, my emotions chaotic.
She nods, reaching out to rest her hand over mine. “You believe your father can do no wrong, but he has his faults. We all do. He’s human, just like the rest of us. I didn’t want to cause a scene here, or in front of you, but I couldn’t stand it any longer. Allowing him to take credit for a gift he didn’t give you is—wrong. I don’t understand why he’s lying, but he is, Wren. And it’s all going to catch up to him.”
My chest hurts at his deceit. He had to know he would get caught. “Do you think he took credit for the gift to make me happy? So I wouldn’t be mad at him anymore?”
“That’s not a good enough reason, but perhaps? He has to know you would find out the truth quickly. Crew will mention it to you—he’ll want the credit he deserves. I’m surprised you haven’t heard from him yet, asking what you thought of your gift.”
I sag against the booth. “I left my phone in my bedroom. Daddy rushed me out of there.”
“I’m sure he did,” she retorts, shaking her head. “Ah, here he comes now. Pretend you don’t know. We can discuss this at home.”
I try to keep my expression neutral, but it’s hard for me to lie, especially when I’m face to face with the person I’m lying to.
My father slides back into the booth, a smile on his face like he’s never done a single wrong thing in his life.
How can he lie to me? I can’t take it.
I can’t.
“Are you okay, Wren?” he asks, frowning. “You seem upset.”
“When did you purchase it?”
“Purchase what?”
Oh, he’s playing dumb. He already looks guilty.
“The piece. A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime. When did you buy it? How did you find it?” I cross my arms in front of my chest, waiting.
“I bought it…recently.”
“From who?”
“The previous owner.”
Duh. “And where do they live? How did you find it?”
He chuckles, though he sounds nervous. “Well, we do have connections in the art world, your mother and me.”
“I had nothing to do with this,” Mom adds, earning a stern look from him.
“Tell me how you found it,” I demand.
“Like I said. I have connections. I did a little digging and made a few calls.” He’s starting to sweat. I see it dotting his hairline.
“Perhaps Veronica assisted you?” Mom asks, her voice dripping with disgust. “I know how helpful she is.”
“Leave her out of this,” he snaps, his cheeks turning red.
Veronica. The new assistant. Maybe there’s more there than I know?
“How much did you pay for it?” I ask him.
“Why are you both ganging up on me? And it’s rude to ask how much the piece was, Wren. It was a gift,” he says, chastising me. He’s out of the booth and on his feet in seconds. “Let’s go.”
“But—”
“We’re leaving,” he interrupts before he turns and exits the diner.
Mom and I share a look. “It’s going to be all right,” she tells me. “We can finish this conversation at home.”
My stomach sinks. I wish I didn’t need to have this conversation at all.
I’m silent the entire walk back to the apartment, as is my father. Even my mother. We’re all quiet, the mood somber.
Completely ruined.
How could he lie to me like that? How? I don’t understand. I don’t know if I ever will. He gets angry at me for my perceived betrayals, and then does the same exact thing and expects us to all accept his lies.
He can’t have it both ways.
We’re approaching our building when I notice someone standing near the entrance. A very familiar someone, clad in a black coat and jeans, that beanie he always wears covering his hair. He turns to face us and my heart soars.
It’s Crew.
Our eyes connect and the thunderous look on his face fills me with worry, though I realize quickly his anger has nothing to do with me.
And everything to do with my father.
“Oh dear,” I hear mother say when she spots Crew.
My father, of course, is completely oblivious.
I break away from my parents and run to Crew, a soft cry falling from my lips when he yanks me into his arms and cradles me close. I press my face to his chest, inhaling his familiar, delicious scent, hating what’s about to happen, but knowing it has to happen just the same.
“Birdy.” He runs his hand over my hair. “We need to talk.”
Slowly, I pull away so I can look into his eyes. “I know.”
“Crew,” my mother calls as they approach. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
I turn, staying in Crew’s embrace and my father is watching us, all the color draining from his face when he sees who I’m standing with.
“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Beaumont.” Crew releases his hold on me to go to my mother, shaking her hand.