He grips the arms of his chair, leaning forward and swiveling at the waist to look at who’s speaking to him. “Klein,” he greets blandly, turning back around.
There’s an open seat beside him, and though he hasn’t invited me to join him, I sink down into it.
“Beautiful evening,” I remark. I’m not sure what else to say, and I’m still trying to figure out how to get the guy to do something besides scowl and look put out.
He side-eyes me. “I wouldn’t think you’d be impressed with sunsets, given where you’re from. Isn’t Arizona known for its sunsets?”
“Among other things.” I shift in my seat. “A sunset over an ocean is something special though.”
“Did you come down here to wax poetic about sunsets?”
I breathe a laugh. I guess there is something to be said for getting to the point. “I did not.”
He turns, assessing me full on. “My daughter then, I take it? You want to talk about my daughter?”
“Just want to tell you how great she is.”
“I already know that.”
I stay silent, but raise my eyebrows.
“I do,” he insists.
“You have an odd way of showing it.”
“Awfully bold of you to come down here and start this conversation with me.”
I shrug, crossing an ankle over the opposite knee. “I’m a bold guy.”
He studies me. I can’t tell if that’s begrudging respect on his face, or if he’s calculating how much work it would take to attempt to toss me overboard.
Finally, he says, “I’m not as bad as you think I am.”
“Mr. Royce, at the end of the day, I am not interested in disrespecting you. After all, you are still Paisley’s father. Paisley has opened up to me about some of her experiences with you, and though I am automatically on her side no matter what, those belong to her. So far, my singular experience with you has supported what Paisley has talked about. So, forgive me, sir, but if you want me to think you are not as bad as I think you are, you’re going to have to start behaving differently.”
He turns his gaze to the ocean. My heart smacks my breast bone. I knew I was thinking all those things, but had no plans to say them. Once I started talking the words took on a life of their own, and marched out like they grew feet and wore combat boots. Sitting by and watching somebody mistreat Paisley is unacceptable to me. Family member or not, real girlfriend or fake, I won’t stand by while someone says she’s anything less than amazing. Even her dad.
“Klein.” Paisley’s voice sails down to me. I look up. She’s standing at the rails of the top deck, fingers curled around the metal. Her hair floats around her face, her orange tank top glowing against the tan she has picked up over the last few days. Gone is the greenish hue she wore on her face earlier.
I wave, and she yells, “We’re going to play a card game.” Her gaze darts to her dad. His back is to her, but he leans forward, prayer hands between his knees and his shoulders hunched. Gaze dragging back to me, she asks, “Should I deal you in?”
“Yeah,” I yell back.
And then, in a move that shocks everyone, Paisley’s dad turns around and hollers, “Deal me in, too.”
Paisley takes a full three seconds to recover, before a grin breaks onto her face. “Done,” she says, happiness in her tone. She steps away from the railing and disappears.
Mr. Royce stands, adjusting his pants that have bunched up around his legs. “No time like the present to turn things around, right?”
We walk around the side of the boat, heading for thestern where the stairs are located. “They say sunsets are an opportunity to reset.”
He pauses with one foot propped on the bottom stair. “You really are a writer.”
CHAPTER 37
Paisley
It’s Thursday,also known as spa day for the women and chartered fishing day for the men. I wake up to a text from Cecily.
