It was like all my excuses and rationalizations were collapsing before my eyes like a house of cards. This had been going on for years now. And I had just let it, happy to take crumbs, never asking for what I wanted or telling my dad how I felt. Because what if I did, what if I told him that I missed him and that he should have come to my play—and it backfired? I barely got to see him as it was, and that was without me getting mad at him.

But, a tiny voice in my head, one that sounded a lot like Kat’s, whispered. Would that really be worse than what you’re feeling right now?

I didn’t have an answer for that, but when the elevator passed the eleventh floor, I tried to compose myself. I wiped off my face, took one long, big breath, held it, and then let it out for twice as long.

I’d learned to do this sophomore year, during A Doll’s House, when, as Nora, I needed to get super emotional and then pretend to be super composed. And it was the same thing now. I could pull this back. I could shake this off. I could walk through the lobby and Matty would never know that anything was wrong.

The elevator doors opened and I stepped out. Matty was standing by the guard’s desk, but the second he saw me, his whole expression changed. “Oh my god, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said, making myself smile wide at him. His brows were furrowed, and judging by his expression, I had a feeling I was blotchy and puffy—not to mention that what was left of my eye makeup was probably all over my face. “Just allergies, I think.”

“Okay,” Matty said, clearly not buying this. “Was your dad there?”

“Gone for the night,” I said, trying to skim lightly over the words, like skipping a stone over the surface of the water. “His assistant said he was working from home.” I didn’t want Matty to ask any questions about why he wasn’t there—I didn’t think I could take it if his expression suddenly turned either pitying or angry on my behalf. “Any luck?”

He grinned at me and held up a set of keys on a leather key chain. “Got ’em.”

“No way,” I said, just looking at him for a moment before taking them. There had been enough blind alleys tonight that a piece of me had just resigned myself to the fact that I’d never get into Mallory’s apartment again. That I’d somehow have to arrange with someone to get my purse later, because the place had suddenly turned as inaccessible as Fort Knox. “Thanks so much,” I said, gripping onto the keys as tightly as I’d ever held anything. “I can’t believe we got them.”

“I’m making, like, eight copies of Mallory’s keys whenever she gets back,” Matty said. “Because knowing her, with a door like that, this is absolutely going to happen again.”