Page 69 of Solo

He takes a deep breath and seems to consider this. I’m amazed—and a little disappointed—to see the irritation melt from his expression.

“Yes, I can see how that might cause some tension. Does that mean you’ve disavowed all knowledge of me?” he says with raised eyebrows and a grin.

His playful teasing is so unexpected that my resolve to injure evaporates.

“What are you, a spy now?” I laugh. “No, of course not! You’re my father. I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know that, Katherine,” he says softly, sincerely. “And I am very grateful that you’ve managed to keep our business out of the press. I’m aware you get your share of reporters nosing around.”

“It’s not that bad,” I say, sipping my wine. “That jerk from the D.C. Courier’s a real piece of work though,” I mutter.

“Kevin Kilpatrick,” he scoffs. “Yes. You’d be wise to keep your distance from that one.”

I don’t bother to tell him it’s a bit late for that.

“Well, you may have heard I’m considering a run for the White House,” my father says, changing the subject.

I nod that I do, in fact, know this little tidbit. He reaches across the table to take my hand.

“Katherine, I’d very much like for you to be a part of that.”

“A part of what?”

“Of all of it! Come out on the campaign trail with me! You’ll graduate soon, so you’ll have plenty of free time. It’ll be you and me on the road… You can give speeches, you can talk to young people about voting—”

“Whoa! Slow down, please,” I say, pulling my hand from his and holding it up in a “stop” gesture. “Daddy, this is our first conversation in years. I hardly think we’re ready to discuss me coming on the campaign trail with you. I hardly know you…”

“How can you say that?” he counters. “Katherine, please. Don’t you think it’s time we put this ridiculousness behind us and move on with our lives?”

I can’t see the wave of crimson that’s crawling up my neck, headed for my cheeks, but I can feel its heat. Suddenly I’m back on the shoot-to-kill train again.

“Daddy, you were the one who started this ‘ridiculousness.’ Remember?”

“Oh, now, Katherine, don’t be so dramatic,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“‘Dramatic’? You make it sound as if it was some mutual conclusion that we came to. But we both know that I didn’t have any choice in the matter. You threw me out of the house, Daddy. You told me not to come home. Or call. Or write. That was all you, Daddy. All. You.”

“I seem to recall you making that choice after I offered you the perfectly acceptable option of studying any one of several fields not connected with the arts.”

I’m staring at him in disbelief when our server returns with salads. Neither of us speaks other than to thank him.

“Katherine—” my father restarts once we’re alone again.

“Daddy,” I interrupt him with a sigh of resignation. “Let me save you the speech. I’m doing fine on my own. And no, I’m not angry with you. I was disappointed in you for a long time. Now—well, now I don’t know what I feel for you. This is the first time we’ve spoken directly in more than five years. I mean, what did you expect would happen here tonight? That the past would magically disappear and we’d be the picture of a devoted father and daughter again?”

“I expected to see some semblance of the manners that I know your mother and I instilled in you. That’s what I expected to see.” He huffs, the charming facade cracking under the weight of his irritation.

I feel my own tide of anger as it rises from my gut.

“She never would have allowed you to treat me the way you have.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

“I am. I am quite sure about that,” I grit, getting to my feet. “You know what? I’m done. I need to go home. I’ve got to work early tomorrow morning.”

“What? Cleaning up like some common maid?” He sneers.

I glare at him.