Twenty minutes later, the sink drained perfectly, and my father was showing Daemon his small workshop in the garage. I watched through the kitchen window as they examined Dad's tool collection, something easing in my father's posture as Daemon asked questions and offered the sort of respect one craftsman gives another.
"He's good for you," my mother said, joining me at the window.
"Mom—"
"I'm not prying. Well, maybe a little." She smiled. "But I haven't seen you this relaxed in years, Nadia. Even with everything going on with the business, you seem... lighter."
"I'm more than a little scared," I admitted. "About the business, about him, about all of it."
"That's how you know it matters." She put her arm around my waist. "Your father was quaking in his boots when he met my parents. Drove around the block three times before he worked up the courage to park."
"Really?"
"Really. The ones worth keeping always scare us a little." For a beat, she said nothing, and I thought she was done. But no. "Speaking of which, Nadia, how is the business? And I want the truth this time."
I sighed. There was no point in lying to my mother. "It's rough. I lost a major account, suppliers are getting pressured by a national chain, and I'm not sure how long I can keep fighting."
"But you're going to keep fighting. Aren't you?"
"Yeah. I am."
"Good." She squeezed me once. "And you're not fighting alone anymore. That man in the garage? He'd walk through fire for you. I can see it."
Through the window, I watched Daemon laugh at something my father said, and my heart stuttered.
"Yeah," I breathed. "I think he would."
After a breather to keep the food comas at bay, my mother brought out pie and coffee. Holly pulled me aside into the hallway.
"Nadia, I need to ask you something." Her expression was apologetic. "And I hate doing this, but?—"
"What's wrong?"
"It's the surgery bill." She glanced back toward the dining room, lowering her voice. "Mom called me after she spoke to you. Nadia, I didn't know Emma was in that much pain. She never said a word."
My stomach tightened. "She didn't want to be a bother."
"She's fifteen, not forty-five." Holly's voice cracked. "I'm her mother. I should have noticed."
"She gets the not-making-a-fuss thing honestly." I took hold of her arm. "From all of us."
"The surgery estimate is a lot. I want to help cover it, but I'm stretched so thin right now with Jack, and the hours at the salon have been—" She stopped. "I hate that it always comes back to you."
"It doesn't always come back to me."
Holly gently shook her head. She'd been watching me carry things for years and knew better. "Nadia."
"I'll handle the surgery. You focus on Jack." I forced a smile. "That's what family does." Holly hugged me, and I held on, trying not to think about the spreadsheet I'd been staring at for the past week.
The one that showed Coogan's Catering barely treading water even before losing Pacific Tech. The one that didn't account for helping my parents or my niece or keeping my staff employed.
The one that made Elevate's offer look more tempting every day.
When we returned to the dining room, Daemon was regaling Jack with a story about a construction project gone wrong, complete with sound effects that had the six-year-old in hysterics. Emma had crept closer, listening with wide eyes.
He caught my gaze across the table, his expression shifting from playful to concerned. He could read me too well already.
Later, as we were saying goodbye, my father pulled Daemon aside. I couldn't hear what he said, but I saw Daemon nod seriously and shake my father's hand again. What I wasn't expecting was for my dad to pull Daemon into a brief, back-slapping hug.
