Page 27
“One of many.”
“Yes.”
The agreement came too quickly.
I leaned my forehead against the glass. “How many is too many, Papa? How many people have to become attached to me before I stop pretending there's a chance it's coincidence?”
“I don't think it is coincidence.”
The answer was quiet and devastating precisely because he didn't soften it.
“Neither do I.”
For a while neither of us spoke.
My father's voice was gentler when he finally broke the silence. “What I don't want is for you to take responsibility for everything they do afterward. Attraction is one thing, and obsession may even be another. Breaking into your apartment and lying to the press are still actions Melanie chose.”
“You said yourself you don't know how much control people have once it gets bad enough.”
“I don't.”
Neither of us did.
That was the problem.
The uncertainty was why I'd spent fifteen years making sure nobody stayed close enough for me to discover the answer.
Except Ash.
My stomach tightened at the thought of him.
Papa noticed my silence. “There's someone.”
I straightened away from the window. “What?”
“There is someone. You don't go this quiet unless there's something you're refusing to tell me.”
“No.”
“You've always been a terrible liar.”
“I'm an excellent liar.”
“Not with me.”
“That might say more about your ego than my ability.”
He ignored that. “Who is he?”
I froze.
Papa gave a quiet huff that would've been laughter under different circumstances. “So there is someone, and he's a man.”
“I didn't say that.”
“You didn't have to.”
I rubbed a hand over my face and wondered why I'd answered the phone.
