Annika gripped her glass, her fingers sliding in the condensation. “We have a few things we’re playing with. The money will come.”

“How will it come? Do you have a plan in place so that financial stress doesn’t become a pattern? How are you going to take care of yourself? How will you support your family one day? These are the things you need to be thinking of and planning for now.”

“Dad, please. I’m nowhere near having a family. And I’ll figure it out, okay? Lots of new businesses deal with this.”

“I’m just worried about you, Ani.”

“Well, there’s nothing for you to worry about! I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to worry.”

He smiled a little. “I’m your father.”

Annika shook her head and got to her feet, abandoning her lemonade. “I’m going out on the balcony for a little while.”

She strode out before he could respond, down the hall to the great room and through the French doors onto the enormous deck, which faced the mountains in the distance. It was almost completely dark now. Annika lit the outdoor gas fireplace, watching the flames dance for a moment.

Her dad loved her, this she knew. She had never doubted that. But every time he pretended that Make Up wasn’t a “real” business and that running it wasn’t a “real” job, she felt like he was questioning who she was. She stood on the balcony for a long time, until she heard him walk up behind her.

He took his place right beside her. “Pluto.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Pluto.”

“Your mother loved this view, you know. The city lights in the distance, the silhouette of the mountains in the dusk until the night takes them away … I think the view was what sold her on this house. She used to say she’d raise you on this deck.” He chuckled.

“Is that why you don’t want to leave?” Annika asked, glancing at him. “Because it reminds you of her?”

He swallowed. “Yes. It’s too big for me, but … leaving would feel like leaving her behind.”

That’s how I feel about Make Up, Annika thought, but couldn’t quite muster up the nerve to say. She didn’t know if her dad would understand or dismiss her out of hand. Make Up was an homage to her parents’ love. Ever since she was four years old, the one thing Annika had wished for was to give her mom and dad a do-over, to somehow change the past. She’d realized how impossible that was as she got older, but she’d thrown herself into doing for others what she couldn’t do for her parents.

“Do you regret it, Dad?” she asked softly. “Do you ever regret falling in love with Mom so hard, and then…”

“Losing her just as we got started?”