"I hate school." She pushes the folder at me as I pull a stool around to the other side of the island.
I get the whiskey I use for cooking when I get around to cooking. It is great when making ragu or drinking while making ragu.
I pour some into my mug. I have got a feeling I'm going to need it.
"Most teens hate school. It is a rite of passage or something."
She heaves out a breath. "No. I like learning, I just hate boarding school. And logistically, with Dad spending half the year in Chicago, pulling out of boarding school and going to a regular school is out of the question."
I raise a brow. "So is pulling out of boarding school. It is elite and does actually give a stellar education."
"But there are other schools that are just as highly rated. Private, and in Manhattan and Brooklyn. I'm good at cooking, I can clean, and I can help out in the office too."
I stare at her because she is not going to like the conversation we definitely need to have.
"I want to change schools, Enzo. I still want to get into Juilliard, but I want to come home after school. To here. I want to live here with you."
Fuck.
"Dad's never gonna let that happen, and you know it." And then there is the basement and the all-nighters and long hours I have. Plus, people she really shouldn't meet or know exist that do stop by from time to time.
Fuck again.
"You can talk to Dad."
I take a sip of the whiskey-laced hot chocolate. "I can, and he will say the same thing. He will never agree to let you live with me. You know that."
She taps a finger on the brochures in front of me. "You can talk to him. I want to go to one of these. I will take any, but the top one is my personal choice. It is related to the school I go to."
I rub a hand over my eyes. "Lyndall, c'mon. Like Dad is going to listen."
"He won't if you don't try. He listens to you and not to me. You know that."
The thing is, she doesn't get the fact he uses her against me. "He's gonna say no. Keep you with him."
"No. He will send me back to school when it is time, and you won't do a thing about it. Because it is easier for you that way."
"It's not true."
She crosses her arms. "Isn't it? I'm asking you to fight for me, and you won't because it is easier to not go head-to-head with him, right?"
I open my mouth to tell her it is not true when it hits me. She is right.
She is sixteen this year. She will be eighteen before I know it, and if there is one thing I'm realizing, it's that Lyndall won't be sitting here after that time. She will get her scholarship, and she is the type to work three jobs to pay her rent, to feed herself while she attains that degree.
She isn't waiting around, and if Dad doesn't like it when she turns eighteen, then too bad.
If Dad doesn't like what Lyndall decides, then too bad. And even now, he can try to keep her from me, but it won't work. She will run if she has to, and next time, it won't be here. I can see that determination shining in her eyes.
And I'm sending her a message of don't rock boats, and if it feels too hard, then don't try. Which isn't me.
I fucking love rocking boats. I adore things that seem too hard or impossible. It is part of being a hacker.
"I will talk to him."
She squeals and jumps off her stool, but I hold up a hand. "Talk. Because I want you to get your education and get into Juilliard."
Lyndall rolls her eyes, as if Juilliard is already a done deal.
