Page 7 of Selfie

He releases me with a broad smile on his face. “Great. I’ll call Jules and let her know. She wanted me to tell you before she announced it on social media.”

“That’s considerate,” I say dryly.

“Are you sure your lunch plans are concrete?” My dad lifts a brow so high it disappears underneath his hard hat. He doesn’t even pretend to buy my excuse.

“Yes.” I have to make my peace with this marriage…but not today. “Anyway, I have to get back to the office. You just dumped a shipwreck on my plate. Time to get started.”

He chuckles. “All right, then.”

I turn on my heel and head toward the building entrance as Dad calls out, “Before I forget, HR hired you another assistant. They start on Monday, next week.”

I stop in my tracks and wheel around. “We talked about this.”

“Nate, don’t start with me.” His voice grows thick with warning. He’s a great dad, but he has a switch. You don’t maintain a multibillion-dollar business without being a hard-ass when you need to. Just because I’m his son doesn’t mean he hasn’t chewed my ass out a time or two. “This is a massive endeavor, for both of us. Not to mention the wedding coming up. You need help.”

“I don’t,” I say, clipped.

“Too bad. I say you do. HR had to recruit out of state to find a decent executive assistant willing to work for you. You’re starting to get a reputation.”

He’s not wrong. I’ve been through seven assistants in the past year alone. One even placed her resignation letter on my desk with a yellow sticky note that read,Attn: Asshole.

“What’s my reputation?” I take a few steps back toward him.

Dad strokes his chin with one finger. “We started offering exit questionnaires for corporate employees who resign. We ask them to give feedback, positive and negative, on the company and their direct managers.”

“That can’t be good.”

Dad gives me a dry smile. “Your complaints are very well fleshed out. You only had one positive comment. It was from your most recent assistant who quit, Helen.”

That’s surprising. I barely spoke to her. I also didn’t remember her name until Dad just mentioned it. “What was the positive comment?”

“‘He didn’t sexually harass me once,’” Dad recites from memory as he looks at me expectantly. “Do you understand what that means?”

“Not really.”

“It means that out of a dozen assistants, theonlypositive comment anyone could muster is that you’re not a sexual predator.”

I bite down on my smirk. “That sounds like a win.”

“Nate,” Dad grunts. “Get your shit together. I’m serious. I’ve tolerated this for so long because after Elise passed, and they took Claire away, I knew you’d need time.”

Hearing their names takes me back to the bad place. The hopeless place. I’ve been surviving for three years by not dwelling on this. “I am fine.”

Sadness cloaks his face. He holds his hand out like he wants to comfort me, but he leaves a foot of space between us. When it comes to this, Dad is used to me pushing him away.

“You know I’d spend every penny I have to bring her back. I’d happily spend the rest of my life piss poor, under a bridge, if I could take this pain away from you, son.”

There are some things money can’t fix. I’m not sure if byherhe’s referring to Elise, or her daughter, Claire. Both areimpossible situations. My fiancée is dead. Her daughter is kept from me by an army of legalities that not even the great Hatcher family can pay away.

I want to tell my dad I appreciate his sympathy. Maybe I even want to close the gap between us and let him hug me. But something stops me every time. Opening up about the greatest trauma of my life meansfeelingit.

“I’ll make you a deal,” I offer.

“Being?” The way he’s looking at me, I know he’s disappointed at my avoidant behavior.

“Get rid of the new assistant and I’ll go to lunch with you and Julia today.”

His eyes narrow. “I thought you had lunch plans?”

---