Page 12 of The Daddy’s Girl

“I think you’re going to have your work cut out for you, Amelia,” my mom jokes.

“Well, now wait a minute,” my brother interjects. “Are we sure you’re the best person to give him dating advice? The last guy you dated had a pet squirrel.”

I gasp in offense. “George was a gentleman. I still think about him all the time.”

“George was the squirrel, wasn’t he?” Freya asks.

“Yes, and I loved him.”

When the laughter dies down, my brother steals the attention again. “All I’m saying is you might know a few things about apps and profiles, but you don’t know anything about picking partners.”

“Well, then we’ll trade,” Matis adds.

“Trade what?” I ask.

He leans forward, straightening his spine, which I’ve learned from him means he’s serious about something. “Trade expertise. You know about apps and technology. I know about men and what to look for in a good boyfriend. If you help me, I’ll help you.”

“That sounds like a perfect plan,” my mom says with excitement.

My best friend is still glaring at me as if I’ve sprouted a unicorn horn. But the longer we sit here after our meal, conversing and talking as a family, I more think about this plan.

About how utterly dangerous and stupid it is. And about all the time I’ll get to spend with him while doing it.

When it’s time to part for the evening, we congregate on the cobblestones out front. My parents’ private car waits as we all hug and say our goodbyes.

“You coming with us, princess?” my dad asks, placing a kiss on the side of my head.

“No, Daddy. I’ll stay a bit and talk to Freya.”

“You have Lucien’s number if you need a ride,” he says. “Do not ride the Métro alone, young lady.”

He knows how much I love taking public transit over the hired car, but he hates how much I do it. I can’t help it. That’s where the real city is at. The heart of Paris.

Riding in the back of expensive cars is cheating. And boring.

My parents get in the car before the driver shuts their door. Then they’re off.

I’ve lost track of Matis as we all part. I stick around with Freya, linking my arm with hers and ignoring the two men standing behind her who seem to think they have any claim on my best friend.

She might be engaged to them, but we all know I come first.

Freya and I walk back inside. The restaurant is still open with a few tables occupied in the dining area. I follow her into the kitchen, knowing she’ll have an earful for me when we are finally alone. Shutting us in her storage room together, she turns toward me with alarm.

“Are you out of your mind?”

I take her arms in my hands. “Listen, I have a plan.”

“As long as I have known you, Amelia, you have been obsessed with that man. That very, very off-limits man. What makes you think working closely with him to find him a date is a good idea?”

She’s whisper-shouting frantically, clearly worried for the well-being of my fragile heart.

“I know, I know,” I say with a sigh, “But this is my chance to finally move on.”

“How so?”

“I figure that if I take him off the market entirely, I will have no choice but to get over him.”

Freya’s brows notch as she stares at me. “Amelia, he’s already off-limits. What makes you think making him more off-limits is going to help you get over him?”