“Ummm . . . maybe? I don’t know.” Her usually peppy voice is off and her hands are fidgeting in a way I only saw when I first interviewed her.

“Are you okay?” I come out of my seat and make my way around the desk. “What’s going on?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry. There are two men in the front who are super insistent on talking to you.” She tries to force a smile, but it’s very unconvincing. “One said he’s your dad? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I would’ve got you right away if I would’ve known.”

I was already pissed someone was giving her a hard time, but finding out that it’s my dad? My vision turns red.

The nicest way to describe him is a jerk. He’s the most insecure human who has ever graced this earth and proves it by talking down to almost every person he crosses paths with.

I can deal with it when it’s aimed at me, but no way in hell am I okay with him walking into this store, the one Gran left me, and being a dick to the people who have stood by me while he made my life a living hell.

Absolutely. The. Fuck. Not.

“Wait back here, you know where I keep my snacks.” I gesture to the file cabinet that houses all my pop, chips, and Sour Punch Straws. “I’ll handle him.”

I don’t wait for a response before I push out of the dark office and go in search of Andrew Young. I should’ve known it was too good to be true, Daisy being close by without him coming down and taking at least one opportunity to jack me around.

Since we are a bookstore, most people who come in do so with a library-like mindset. Their voices are hushed and conversations are kept quiet to respect the other patrons who are in search of their next great read.

But not Andrew Young.

Oh no. My father has never been aware of anybody but himself. Which is evident by his booming voice echoing across the entire damn store. When I find him, I have to stop and take a deep breath in order to not launch myself at him.

He’s in the nook section, sitting in Vivian’s chair, with his loafers—which I’m sure cost a mint despite them being the ugliest effing shoes I’ve ever seen—resting on the coffee table Gran and I spent a week refinishing.

How he shares genetics with me and Gran will be a mystery I never solve. Truly one of life’s cruelest jokes.

“Drew!” He kicks his shoes off the table and aims his bright, wide smile, which has tricked so many people, my way. “There you are. I’d like you to meet my friend Connor Walsh. Connor, this is my daughter Drew.”