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I’d been sitting on Beau’s balcony for hours. We ate the snacks and then he ordered burgers and more beer. He hadn’t asked me to leave and I honestly didn’t want to go. I’d come over expecting to slog through a meeting about whatever disaster we’d created. He wasn’t the devil in Prada. Blackwell Couture, technically, but still, he wasn’t bad.

He opened another beer and handed it to me, that stupid look on his face.

“I don’t care how many beers I’ve had, I’m not doing it,” I said and took another drink. Thank God I had a high tolerance, especially when it came to beer. That and I’d been munching nonstop since I walked through the door.

“Come on. It won’t take more than three minutes. Five minutes tops, depending on what you’re into.”

I shook my head. “I’m not singing karaoke with you.”

“It’s just us in my living room. No one else around to see it. And the machine is already set up.”

“Nope. No way. I don’t care if it’s in your basement.”

“I live on the beach. If I had a basement, you’d be under the ocean.”

“I’m an awful singer.”

“Of course you are. If you were a good singer, you’d be opening for Taylor Swift. That’s the whole point of karaoke.”

“To sing poorly?”

“Everyone hates you if you sing well,” he said, like it was as obvious as the sky being blue. “You have to learn to be bad at stuff and have fun doing it anyway.”

“No.”

He sighed and I swore he pouted.

“Okay, what if we do a duet? Then I won’t just be watching you sing for me. We’ll both sing badly together.”

I took another long sip of my beer. I appreciated he had good taste. No piss beer. Oh God. Did I just think that? I really was my father.

The ocean breeze had picked up, carrying fresh air across the balcony. It was peaceful here. Too peaceful. That and the beer and good food and I was wishing I had my jammies.

“I’ve never been a singer,” I said. “Or a performer of any kind, really. No dance recitals. No school plays. Nothing like that. You would never catch me trying to get any spotlight. I didn’t do the girly stuff that drew attention. No makeup. Boring clothes. Nothing.”

Beau tilted his head, studying me with those annoyingly perceptive eyes. “No girly stuff at all?”

“Not really.” I picked at the label on my beer bottle, peeling it back in thin strips. “My mom died when I was young. My dad was suddenly a single parent with no idea what he was doing.”

I couldn’t believe I was telling him any of this. It had to be the beer. Maybe it was the darkness making it feel safe. Private.

“He did his best,” I continued. “But he was a businessman, not a mom. He didn’t know how to braid hair or paint nails or do any of that stuff. And I never asked him to learn. I could tell it made him uncomfortable, like every girly thing reminded him of what we’d lost. I didn’t have any siblings, so it was just the two of us.”

“That sounds rough,” Beau said quietly. No pity in his voice, which I appreciated.

“It was what it was. I adapted. I became a mini version of him instead of her. Sat in his office, learned about business, wore the most basic outfits to school because that’s what he bought me.” I laughed, but it came out hollow. “The other kids thought I was weird. I thought my khakis and polos were sophisticated. I looked like my dad.”

“You were a kid doing the best you could with what you had.”

I looked at him, surprised by the gentleness in his voice. “Yeah. I guess I was.”

We sat quietly watching the waves crashing against the shore below us. I hadn’t talked about my mom in years. Hadn’t let myself think about what I might have missed, growing up without a feminine role model. It was easier to just keep moving forward and pretending none of it mattered.

“You know what I hate most?” I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “That stupid ice queen nickname.”

“I figured.”

“It’s not just that it’s mean, although it is. It’s that the same qualities that earn men praise are the ones that get me vilified.” I took another long drink. “Being calm under pressure and in control are good things. Being decisive. All are necessary traits to run a company like Corwin Gems. My father built his entire reputation on being no-nonsense and ruthless. They praised his dedication to his brand and his customers.”