in a painful fight for one another. I didn’t know if I’d ever get this again, so I was selfish with his touch, claiming every last drop. If this was him kissing me goodbye, I wanted to savor every second.
And then, he ripped himself away from me and set me back on the floor. He didn’t look at me. He didn't say a word. Rogue just exited the bathroom and never looked back.
Daddy was searching his office when I finally got home that evening. It was a Monday, which meant that Mama had a meeting with the PTA and would probably go out for cocktails with her Bridge team afterwards. Daddy and I just sort of turned it into our unofficial visitation for the week. We usually ordered pizza and talked about nothing. He wasn’t a good guy—not by any stretch of the imagination. I was pretty sure I had two half siblings in Florida that lived in a “vacation home” we never actually got to vacation in. But he was my dad and another person in my life I had to lower my expectations for. Bonham once teased that I had Daddy issues. Maybe he was right.
“Hey,” I said.
Although most the time I looked forward to Monday nights with Daddy, I wasn’t in the mood for his grand gestures of goodwill and promises to do better. He looked good, though. Had a fresh tan, probably from taking his current girlfriend to the Bahamas a few weeks ago. His dark hair and chocolate eyes looked like mine, but he had a larger nose and defined jawline. It was odd, but he looked younger since moving out. The frown lines around his lips had almost disappeared and he’d obviously been working out, his beer gut was almost completely gone. Leaving his family looked good on him.
“You’re home late,” he observed while glancing at the clock. He’d gotten used to me not having much of a social life these last few months.
“I had dance class for the cotillion ball.”
Daddy straightened while checking a folder on a shelf above him. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for in his office, but he was making a messy disaster in the process.
“The junior ball? Was that why your mama bought a fourteen thousand dollar dress at Neiman Marcus today?” he asked with a frown.
“Could be?” I replied with a shrug. “Or she could just like fucking with you.”
Daddy sunk into his swiveling office chair before spinning to look at me. “She’s kind of a bitch,” he agreed stubbornly.
“So why not divorce her? Isn’t it exhausting trying to live like this?” I asked, walking inside his office and propping myself against the wall. I wasn’t sure why I was asking my father about his opinions on his marriage. It probably had something to do with my inability to completely give up on Rogue. Was it in my blood? Did I crave a toxic relationship because I didn’t know any better?
“There’s a phrase that us lawyers like to toss around in regards to divorce court, Scarlett,” Daddy began while pulling out his phone and smiling at whatever message his girlfriend of the week sent him. “It’s cheaper to keep her,” Daddy laughed at his joke, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever said. “Besides, it’s important that you grow up in a healthy home environment.”
I snorted “Right. Because this is just oh so functional. Y’all are the picture of a healthy relationship,” I replied, deadpan. I started cleaning the papers on his desk when another question came to me. “So that’s it? There’s no other reason to stay with her other than me and money?”
Daddy’s humorous disposition dropped for a moment. “Ah, I guess…” he struggled to find his words. “I guess sometimes it’s just hard to let go. Even when the things we’re clinging to hurt us.”
I swallowed and looked down at my feet. He was right. “Wow, Daddy. That was almost deep,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.
When the uncomfortable mood didn’t lift, I started shuffling through the papers on his desk, distracting myself with organizing the mess he’d made. We worked in silence for a few moments, him shifting through the chaotic stacks of papers, and me cleaning everything back up. If that wasn’t a metaphor for our family dynamic, I didn’t know what was. I had been cleaning for a good half hour when I came across a document with Mr. Taylor’s letterhead on it. It was a list of