I stare at him and then nod with a smile. “Sure, that would be lovely.”
“You have a shower and we’ll go.”
“Can we walk?” I ask. “It’s a lovely night out.”
He nods, waving his hand. “Sure, whatever you want. We need to go past your dad’s house first.”
I sigh. “Why, Jacob?”
“He wants to see you.”
“I called him three days ago.”
He gives me a stern look. “Stop being so selfish. He’s an old man and he’s alone.”
“I know that,” I snap. “Look, whatever, we’ll go, okay?”
He glares at me but I don’t let him answer. Instead I turn and head to the shower. I don’t rush as the warm water washes over me, and I certainly don’t rush when I’m dressing and putting makeup on. I end up opting for a pair of skinny jeans and an emerald-green turtleneck sweater. I pull on a pair of black, strappy heels and I throw my hair up messily in a clip. Then, with a sigh, I head out and meet Jacob back in the kitchen. He takes his coat, doesn’t give me a second glance, and we walk out of the apartment.
My father lives two blocks down and around the corner, it’s close enough to walk, and yet, out of the two of us, I’m the only one who ever makes the effort. My father never comes to me. Jacob pushes me as though it’s my fault my dad is alone, but he never makes any efforts for me, so why should I with him?
Jacob and I walk in silence, he doesn’t hold my hand. He’s still got his nose in that stupid phone.
“How was your day?” I attempt.
“Fine,” he murmurs, texting furiously.
I sigh.
We arrive at my father’s massive home and I press the intercom that’s outside the large, cast-iron fence.
“Yes?”
“Wilson,” I say into the speaker. “It’s Avery.”
“Avery,” he sings. “How lovely. I’ll open the gate.”
I love Wilson, my father’s assistant. He’s a warm, gentle old man that, for some crazy reason, stays loyal to my father.
The gates make a loud, shrill sound and begin to slide open. Jacob and I step in and walk up the long driveway to my father’s three-story white mansion. I didn’t grow up here; he got it after my mother went missing. I guess the old house was too much for him.
I don’t knock when I reach the front door; I never have to. I open it to face Wilson. He’s smiling big at me, and he instantly reaches out and pulls me into his arms. He’s a strong man for his age. He’s fully gray, with pale-brown eyes. He’s built, tall and quite powerful. I hug him with a smile and look up at him. He always smiles at me the way I wish Papa would smile at me. Those days, however, are long gone.
“How are you, Wilson?”
He pinches my cheek. “Not as good as you, it seems. You look wonderful, Avery.”
I beam. “Thank you.”
He lets me go and reaches out, shaking Jacob’s hand.
“Wilson, good to see you,” Jacob says, stepping past us and heading down the hall. “Is he in the office?”
“Yes sir,” Wilson says, rolling his eyes at me and causing me to giggle.
Jacob turns and glares at us, but we both stare innocently at him. He turns and keeps walking.
“I better go,” I whisper, kissing Wilson’s cheek quickly before rushing off towards Jacob.
We reach my father’s office and Jacob opens the door, stepping in. I see my dad right away, standing by the window with a cigar in his hand. His once dark-brown hair is now greying, and he’s gotten leaner as age has gone on. He turns to stare at us, and his eyes—the same eyes as mine—are empty. They’ve never been full again. He forces a smile but it’s the fakest, emptiest smile I’ve ever seen.
“Avery,” he mutters. “I didn’t think I’d see you anytime soon.”
It’s almost as if he’s picking on me, even though he’s acting as through it’s normal conversation.
“I’ve been busy dancing,” I say, walking over and giving him the most awkward hug in the history of hugs.
“Mmmm,” he grumbles.
“We’ll do what we have to here, and then we’ll go,” Jacob says, walking to his desk and sitting down.
I’m still giving my father a look.
“Have you spoken to Liam?” I ask.
He stiffens and straightens. “Liam refuses to be a part of my life. I’m not going to chase him.”
Chase him. Chase him.
He’s never, not once, made an effort with Liam. He doesn’t visit; he doesn’t take an interest in his life. He just sits back and blames his attitude on him.
“He’s into the drugs quite heavily,” I say.