“I do, but Giselle, no one will ever be more important to me than you. Don’t ever worry about that, okay?”
“As long as you’re not moving in with her and her husband to become a throuple.”
I shake my head, cursing my ex-wife. “Never ever. If I date a woman, and that’s a big if, it will just be me and her, and it’ll never come between us. Until you go off to college, you and me are going to live right here, just the two of us.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you to date anyone. I just don’t want it to be serious immediately.”
“I get that. You have my word. Is that why you’re upset?”
She pulls her knees up to her chest, sighs and looks away. “I sent a picture to a guy from school. He said no one else would see it, but he lied. He sent it out to everyone.”
My stomach clenches. “What kind of a picture?”
She shrugs. “I’m sure you can imagine, Dad.”
My heart hits the floor. Fuck. It sickens me to think of my daughter sending a nude photo to anyone, and then for it to be shared with others? I want to crush that boy’s bones to dust with my bare hands.
I close my eyes, forcing myself to keep my promise about not getting mad. Elbows on my knees, I ask, “Was it a nude photo?”
“God, this is so embarrassing.”
“Just tell me and we can deal with it, whatever it is.”
She buries her face in her knees and says, “It was shirtless. So I guess it looked like I was naked because you couldn’t see anything but my stomach up. I had pants on, though.”
She’s crying again. I want to throw a chair through a window because I’m so fucking pissed at the kid who shared her photo, but that’s not what she needs right now.
“How old is this guy?” I ask.
If he’s eighteen or older, the police will be on his doorstep within an hour, but I don’t tell her that.
“He’s sixteen and we’re in the same grade. But Dad, please don’t go to his house. Or call his parents. I don’t want this to be any worse than it already is.”
I sit back in the chair, considering my options. “He needs to face the consequences of his actions.”
“If you want me to talk to you about stuff, you can’t run off and tell everyone’s parents.” Giselle’s look is pleading. “If you do, I won’t trust you next time.”
I stand, still wanting to punch that kid in the face. “Why did he do that?” I ask out loud. “Such a dick move.”
“He said he liked me, but…” Giselle’s voice catches. “It was all a lie. He was tricking me the whole time.”
“I want to pull his teeth out with pliers,” I say in a level tone. “I’m not going to, but I really, really want to.”
She almost smiles. “He deserves it.”
“I’m sorry. You’re a beautiful, strong and smart person and you didn’t deserve this. No one does. But it’s especially hard to see my amazing daughter hurting.”
“I called Mom and tried to talk to her about it. That was stupid of me.”
I lower my brows. “What did she say?”
“She put me on speaker with her boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever I’m supposed to call them. She said all of them love me and they all wanted to help.”
I cringe. “That’s bullshit. God, I’m sorry.”
After a pause, she looks at me and asks, “You aren’t mad at me for sending the picture?”
I shrug. “It’s done now. It was a hard lesson for you.”
“Am I grounded?”
I look at her red swollen eyes. The poor kid has already suffered enough.
“You’re the opposite of grounded,” I say. “Why don’t we take a trip? Just you and me?”
“When? Now?”
I’m not normally this impulsive, but I’d do just about anything to make my daughter feel better right now.
“Sure. Why not?”
“Well school, for one. And your job.”
“Let’s blow those off for a week and go to Paris. I haven’t been to my apartment there in more than a year. We can leave our phones at home and just be. Dinner on the Seine, the Louvre and Musee D’Orsay, pastries from that bakery you love…what do you say?”
“It sounds fun. But no phones? Are you sure? What about work?”
“I’ve got people working for me who can handle it. Let’s ditch social media and email and just have some fun.”
Giselle smiles. “Okay. Should I pack?”
“Yes. You pack, and I’ll order pizza and I’ll have Hassan set up our flight and move work stuff around.” I look at my watch. “We should be able to leave in an hour or so.”
“Really?”
“There are a few perks to having your own plane.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
I leave Giselle’s bedroom feeling like I got this one right. My daughter needs my attention, and nothing else matters as much as that. And the long flight to Paris will give us plenty of time to talk about how teenage boys don’t deserve my little girl’s undivided trust.
The phone thing…that won’t be easy. It just kind of slipped out of my mouth before I had time to think about it. But the truth is, I’d be checking work emails if I had it, and I want Giselle to know I’d rather be with her and not have any other distractions.
I’ll have a lot to catch up on when I get back, but if it puts a smile on her face, it’s worth it.
Chapter Eight
Daphne
“Why are you an asshole?” Nina glares at me over the rim of her glasses.
“Really?” I scowl. “Turning a man down for a date makes me an asshole?”
“No, turning that man down for a date makes you an asshole.” She gestures at the half dozen sunflowers in bloom in a vase on my desk.
“He’s not my type, okay?”
Her laugh is not amused. “Girl, you need to take a long hard look at your type, then. Not only did he pull you out of a burning car, he met your insufferable parents and didn’t punch them in the face. Then he comes in here looking sexy as hell to ask you out in person. And that note…”
Nina fake swoons and falls against the back of my office door. I can’t help cracking a smile.
“The note wasn’t bad,” I admit.
It’s hanging on my bulletin board right now, and my eyes roam over to it at least five times a day, if not more.
Dear Daphne,
Isn’t it funny
That because of my money
You refused me a date
But what if I’m great?
Even though you don’t know it
I can be a poet
And if you say yes
You can hear more of my poems...or less
Olivier
He wrote his phone number below his name. The note and flowers were delivered to the shelter last Tuesday at the end of the workday, and since I had a work event that night, I didn’t text him back until mid-morning Wednesday.
Me: Thanks for the flowers, they’re lovely. The poem made me smile.