Chương 4
Vincent had laughed then.
He did not laugh now.
“Give her tonight,” Vincent said.
“I’m her father.”
“Then act like one and give her tonight.”
Daniel’s voice hardened.
“You don’t get to decide when I see my daughter.”
“No.”
Vincent glanced through the doorway.
Lily had returned to the counter and was eating the ugly pancake with both hands.
“She does.”
“She’s four.”
“You keep saying that whenever you want her opinion not to count.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Maybe not.”
Vincent rubbed his thumb over the gold ring on his right hand.
“But you should think about why she screamed for me when you were ten feet away.”
Daniel went silent.
Vincent regretted the sentence immediately.
Not because it was false.
Because he had enjoyed saying it.
That was the old ugliness in him, the part that could turn pain into leverage before conscience caught up.
He looked down at the ring.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“I shouldn’t have hit you.”
A humorless breath came through the phone.
“That supposed to fix my ribs?”
“No.”
“And Vanessa?”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“I shouldn’t have hit her either.”
“You sound less convinced about that one.”
“I’m working on it.”
“You always say that after.”
Vincent went still.
The words opened a door neither man had touched in years.
Daniel continued before Vincent could close it.
“You hit first, apologize later, and everybody’s supposed to admire the apology because at least Vincent Moretti admits when he’s wrong.”
“I never hit you when you were a child.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“Then don’t compare—”
“I’m comparing the rule.”
Vincent stopped.
In the kitchen, Lily dropped her fork.
It clattered against the tile.
Neither man spoke for several seconds.
Daniel finally said, “I agreed with Vanessa because I didn’t want another fight.”
“That worked out.”
“Yeah.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
“I’ve been doing that for months.”
“Doing what?”
“Choosing whatever ends the argument fastest.”
Daniel’s voice became quieter.
“She says Lily manipulates me because I feel guilty about the divorce.”
“Do you?”
“Of course I feel guilty.”
“Does Lily manipulate you?”
“She’s four.”
This time the phrase sounded different.
Vincent heard it too.
Daniel continued.
“She asks for ice cream after I say no.”
“Criminal mastermind.”
Despite himself, Daniel laughed once.
The laugh died quickly.
“She also apologizes for things that aren’t her fault.”
Vincent looked toward the kitchen.
Lily was carefully wiping syrup from the counter with a paper towel.
“When did that start?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
Daniel breathed into the phone.
“Dad, what happens tomorrow?”
Vincent watched his granddaughter inspect the counter for any remaining mess.
“That depends on what she tells us.”
“And if she says there were more times?”
Vincent did not answer immediately.
The answer he wanted to give involved fury, removal, punishment, certainty.
The answer Lily needed required something harder.
“You listen.”
Daniel swallowed audibly.
“And Vanessa?”
“You listen to her too.”
“You trust her?”
“No.”
Vincent watched Lily throw the paper towel away and return to her stool.
“But tomorrow can’t be about who I trust.”
Daniel was quiet.
Vincent added, “And it can’t be about making you feel like a good father again.”
That one hurt.
He could hear it.
“Good night, Dad.”
“Good night.”
Vincent ended the call.
When he returned to the kitchen, Lily was staring at the pancake on her plate.
“Grandpa?”
“Yes?”
“Daddy said sorry.”
Vincent pulled out the chair beside her.
“He did.”
“Does that mean I have to go home?”
“No.”
She picked at the edge of the pancake.
“Is Vanessa mad?”
“Probably.”
Lily nodded as though this confirmed something important.
Then she whispered, “She gets mad when I tell.”
Vincent did not move.
Lily kept her eyes on the pancake.
The syrup had soaked into one side until it looked darker than the rest.
“What happens when you tell?” he asked.
She shrugged.
It was not a careless shrug.
It was the small, guarded movement of a child checking whether an answer might cause trouble.
Vincent lowered himself into the chair beside her.
“You’re not in trouble.”
“I know.”
She said it too quickly.
He waited.
Lily tore off a piece of pancake and rolled it between her fingers.
“Vanessa says I make Daddy sad.”
Vincent’s face tightened.
“What does she mean?”
“She says he works all day and then I make problems.”
“Did she say that today?”
Lily shook her head.
“Yesterday?”
Another shake.
Vincent forced himself not to stack questions on top of her.
He had watched detectives ruin conversations that way when he was younger, men so eager for facts that they frightened the truth back into hiding.
Lily licked syrup from her thumb.
“She says Daddy already had enough with Mommy.”
Vincent looked toward the darkened window over the sink.
His reflection stared back at him.
“What does that mean to you?”
Lily frowned.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.”
“Mommy left because I cried too much?”
Vincent turned so sharply the chair legs scraped against the floor.
“No.”
Lily flinched.
He softened his voice immediately.
“No, sweetheart.”
She looked at him.
“Your mother did not leave because of you.”
“Vanessa said Daddy likes quiet now.”
Vincent’s hand curled on the edge of the table.
He made himself release it.
“What exactly did she say?”
Lily squinted, trying to remember.
“She said Daddy was tired of crying.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it at home?”
She nodded.
“In the kitchen?”
Another nod.
“What were you doing?”
“I spilled milk.”
Vincent breathed through his nose.
Lily watched him carefully.
“You’re mad.”
“I am.”
“At me?”
“Never for telling me the truth.”
She considered that.
“Sometimes I lie.”
“So do I.”
Lily blinked.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Grandmas don’t lie.”
“I’m not a grandma.”
That earned him a reluctant smile.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
He tapped the plate lightly.
“And I’m still capable of lying.”
“What do you lie about?”
Vincent glanced toward the stove.
May you like
“Apparently I tell people I can make pancakes.”
Lily laughed.
