“Now, unless you’re intent on talking me into holding her baby shower, and just to remind you, she and I are not that close, I’d like you to let me go,” I requested, pulling again at my arm.

He didn’t let me go.

He got even closer.

This meant I got even more annoyed.

“I know you’re hurting, Liv,” he declared.

“I’m not hurting, Tom. I’m busy. Now let me go.”

“There’s shit we need to talk through, probably needed to talk through way before now but no matter the time that passed, it was always too raw. But we can’t avoid it anymore. And with things changing the way they are with the business, it could mean change between—”

“There’s nothing we need to talk through,” I interrupted. “There’s just one thing you need to do and that’s let me go.”

“Honey—”

I felt the icy-heat of my anger flash.

“Fucking let…me…go,” I snapped.

Tommy blinked.

Then he let me go.

Even released, I was no less displeased, and in our new roles in our world, Tommy needed to know that.

So I shared it with him.

“You don’t obey an order immediately again, Tom, this will not make me happy.”

He stared.

“Now, get back to doing whatever you need to be doing,” I finished curtly, gave him a sharp nod of my head, yanked open the door and I walked into the hallway.

I heard the door close, drowning the noise behind me.

The second indication it was not going to be my day was when I barely lifted my head from watching my feet take me toward my office and I saw my father walking my way.

Damn.

“Olivia,” he called.

“Dad,” I replied.

I stopped at my door.

He stopped with me.

I took him in.

Seeing him for the first time in weeks, I noted that he looked old.

He’d been good-looking. Average height, sloped shoulders, but he’d had a strong-featured, interesting face that was classic enough to be handsome, rough enough to give him an edge.

All that was melting. Booze. Broads. Three wives, none (but the first, my mother) lasting long but all of them lasting long enough to be a pain in everyone’s ass (that including my mother, in perpetuity, unfortunately). Living large.

There was a reason when you lived like that you wanted to die young, because you didn’t want to get to the point where you were wearing your life on your face.

As sick as it made me, and it made me sick, I couldn’t help but think, regrettably this long since had not been my father’s end.

“I hear you’re seeing someone,” he announced.

My heart stopped beating.

Had I missed a tail on my way to Nick’s?

Dad didn’t notice I needed resuscitation.

“Finally, your mother and I agree on something,” he stated.