Page 115 of Joey

But I cannot get on his side about these people or this place.

Why?

I have no good reason to feel this way. I should be on Joey’s side. I should agree with him.

I just don’t.

“That’s because you want this life, Brooke.”

I’m surprised that the me in the mirror has such insight when the me outside of the mirror has none.

But she’s right.

I want this life.

I want to go backwards and live this life that little Maisy has been given. I want to be her, up in that window, waving at beautiful people down below. I want to be her, as a teenager, riding horses with cousins, or friends, or sisters around your family estate. I want those old ladies in hats to care about me. To brag about me or, hell, just gossip about me.

I want to matter to them. Someone. Hell, anyone.

I want all the things every little girl wants.

But I’m not a little girl anymore.

Maisy is, though. Maisy has that life. And she could keep it. She could remain unaware of her true beginnings. Of the father who never was. And she could grow up never knowing.

So I guess the question is… which is better?

Blissful ignorance or harsh reality?

My father, Miklos. He was a good man. He loved me, and I loved him, and my life after the age of sixteen wasn’t horrible anymore.

But it wasn’t great either.

I am not an honest person. I am not pure, or benevolent, or charitable.

This is a job. I’m not doing this out of the good of my heart. I’m doing this to buy friends. To make relationships based on secrets.

Because that’s the only way I know how to make them, isn’t it? Lies and secrets bind people together in weird ways.

That’s the only way I know how to be loyal to people.

Give a secret, get a secret. Poof. You have yourself a bond.

It’s sick.

I used to think about Esmilia when I was younger. I used to wonder if she’d want to know about me. Her replacement. I used to wonder if she helped him choose me. And that bothered me for a long, long time. Because then I was just a thing he kept for her, not himself.

And I wanted him to love me the way I loved him. I wanted to know the truth. Why me? That’s all I’ve ever wanted to know. But here’s the thing… the truth doesn’t always lead to happiness. Because if Miklos’s answer to that question was, “Esmilia chose you,” I’d never see him the same way again. I’d never feel the same way about him again.

That truth would ruin everything. All the years. All the love. All the happiness.

So maybe… I feel like a traitor for even thinking this. But maybe Maisy is better off not knowing?

Not better off for not knowing Joey is her father.

But better off not knowing Michael isn’t her father?

There’s a difference between the two and—