Page 80 of Eye Candy

“It’s just a café, Caroline.”

“It’s your life.”

“No, no.” My dad put one of his massive, gnarled hands over mine. “It’s not. It’s just a café. It doesn’t matter if we have it or we don’t. What matters to me is you. You and Mikey. And Tessa, too. You’re my life. This?” He waved a hand. “It’s just bricks and mortar, kid.” My eyes welled over. Dad fished the hanky he always carried out of his pocket and gave it to me. “Don’t cry, Bucket. I’m fine. I have my health. The knee is coming along well, and the other one will last a bit longer yet. And if the café gets taken or the house gets taken, so what? I can always go live with Mike.”

We both laughed at that. I wouldn’t trust my brother with sole care of a goldfish, let alone a dad. Run a café and cook mashed potatoes? Mike could do. Look after a person’s emotional needs? Be present and steadfast, and home before one in the morning? Find someone else.

“If you want to go back overseas, Bucket, then go,” Dad said. “Just visit us more.”

If only it was that simple.

“Thanks.” I sniffed.

“Don’t thank me.” Dad said lightly. His cheerfulness was irrepressible, and always had been. “Your moping is driving away my customers. Even Ghost left here depressed.”

I laughed snottily.

Then Dad’s face sobered. “Caroline… I kept Levitate all these years because I wanted to be able to pass it to you two. I had this vision of a business that my grandkids would inherit and run. But this place isn’t your thing—you have your dancing. And Mike has given it his all here, but I know he has other things he wants to focus on.”

I made a face. The idea of Mike having goals was hilarious.

“There’s a bloke who’s been trying to buy this place off me for years,” Dad said. “He owns a few cafés in neighboring towns. He offered to buy it, but I’d keep running it. He even wrote a contract that said that. He’s one of those nostalgists. I reckon we’ll make a good team, and I’ll be able to hire some more staff—maybe a real barista. No offense, Bucket, but your lattes are shit.”

I thought about what he was offering, then I realized I didn’t have tothinkabout how I felt—I couldfeelhow I felt. Already, my limbs were lighter, my breath was coming easier.

Like I’d said to Chase, I made decisions based on feelings. And this felt good.

“OK.”

“So you’ll go back to New York?”

“Um …”

Dad’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I messed things up. With the blog guy. I hurt him.”

“Is it fixable?” Dad asked.

I sat and thought. I thought for as long as it took to clean glitter off a raised stage. I thought for the duration of a freelancer trying to work out their income tax. I thought until my tea went cold. I thought for forever.

“I don’t know,” I said eventually. “But I’m going to try.”

Because I had the never-give-up gene.

CHAPTER 29

CHASE

Generally,when one was depressed, it was best to stay off rooftops. But yesterday, my phone lit up with a message from Joe, the first one in—I couldn’t remember.

He invited me to brunch on his roof, which was apparently something he and Jemima did every Saturday.

I was late. I was always late these days. It was hard to get out of the house. Time was a suggestion, and what was the worst that could happen if I was behind schedule? The worst had already happened.

It was nearly eleven when my feet hit the spongy artificial grass of the rooftop of Joe’s building.

Instantly, a beaming Jemima Ross looped her arm through mine. “Chase! I’m so glad you came.”

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