“I don’t believe that, Ella. You know what you want. You always have. I think sometimes you’re as unfair to me as you think I am to you, if you know what I mean.”

I say I don’t, but of course, I do.

“You want to share responsibility for your choices with me. Now, I don’t mind—it comes with the job of being your father. But it also makes me wonder if I’d done a better job whether you might not need for me to do it at all.”

This is another recurring theme in my sessions with Allison: my decision to follow in my father’s career footsteps rather than pursue music back when such a choice made sense for a twentysomething with dreams. I’ve held it against him ever since, despite the fact that, deep down, I know it was my decision, even if I was motivated by pleasing him. And he’s probably right that I’m here now to get his blessing to accept the job so I will have someone to blame if I fail in the end.

“I’m working on it,” I say with a smile.

He smiles back. “I know you are. I’m working on it too. Which is why I’m not going to tell you that if you take the case it will make you the most famous prosecutor in this city. Or that you will be able to write your own ticket after that.”

“Not if I lose.”

He chuckles. “Even if you lose. Think about the A-list lawyers in this city. They’re known for their famous clients, but they almost always end up either losing or pleading them out. I mean, look at me. I haven’t won an acquittal in . . . I don’t know, four or five years, at least. Hasn’t hurt my practice any.” After a beat, he continues, “I’m also not going to say this: it is perfectly acceptable for you to decline. Cases that are personal, they’re always the toughest. There’s enough pressure on you to win besides having to feel that you’ve failed to avenge the murder of someone you love if you lose.”

There’s a knock on the door. Even before my father can respond, the door slides open slightly. Ashleigh’s head pokes in.

“Your one o’clock is here,” she says.

“Thanks, Dad,” I tell him. “For everything you said—and everything you ‘didn’t’ say.”

Since Dana Goodwin’s arrest, Gabriel has kept to a saner schedule, but he still rarely comes home before seven. Today he arrives at six, undoubtedly because he wants to finish discussing the conversation we started earlier.

I sometimes can’t believe how much I miss him during the day. I’ve never felt this way about a man before, and it both frightens and exhilarates me.