She looks up at me ruefully. “I quit my job to start the business. My dream was always to live in New York, so when everything imploded in my face like that, I figured it was the right time to go. Staying in Ireland just kept reminding me of how stupid I was.”
“You’re not stupid, Clodagh,” I say softly. “You’re just trusting. You deserve to be treated better than that. He sounds like a scumbag.”
“I’m naive, more like. I looked up to him because he was so smart. I never thought I could start my own business. In school, I came bottom of the class in the important subjects.” She blanches. “I probably shouldn’t tell you that. If I were your daughter, you’d be so disappointed in me. I’m bowled over by how much Teagan does, never mind her schoolwork.”
“You’re not my daughter.” I stare hard at her, feeling my jaw tense up. “And that’s not how being a father works. You love your daughter for everything about them, even their vulnerabilities.”
She shrugs. “Anyway, it’s not all doom and gloom. I’ve wanted to live in New York ever since I watched Home Alone when I was eight. And here I am.”
“If only life in New York was a Disney fantasy.”
“I don’t need the fantasy. I’d be happy living in New York and sanding doors. That’s it. I’m a simple gal. No big dreams.” She looks at me curiously. “What’s your dream? Have they all come true?”
“I don’t dream.”
She eyes me skeptically. “I don’t believe that. Everyone dreams, even if they’re scared to share them.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so.” Her grin suggests she’s won some unspoken battle between us. Her fingertips trace around the rim of her glass, hinting at a refill. “I also think underneath the cool exterior, you’re not as scary as you’d like people to believe.”
My chest tightens as she stares at me, her eyes smoldering with a mixture of heat and hope. “Don’t doubt it; I am.”
She pouts slightly. “Do I really have to keep calling you Mr. Quinn? Can I call you Killian? Killy?”
I drain my glass and stand. “Go to bed. We both have to be up at five.”
Her emerald eyes widen in disappointment, but she nods.
Her robe slips off one shoulder as she stands, exposing the top of her perfect, small breasts. Definitely never getting to sleep now.
“And yes, you can call me Killian. Don’t expect to keep your job if I hear you call me Killy even once.”
***
I’m exhausted in the morning. After my run, I decided to go to work late. It’ll be nice to have breakfast with my daughter for once. We don’t get enough quality time together, and when we do, all I get these days are sullen looks and tantrums. Getting my baby girl to talk to me is like drawing blood from a stone.
“Heya,” Clodagh chirps when I enter the kitchen. She hands me a coffee. “I made it to the end of the week.”
My brow lifts. It’s a little premature, considering the events of last night. “The week isn’t over yet.”
She scowls but knows to leave it.
The sound of Teagan’s footsteps down the hall makes me smile. She doesn’t know I’m here.
I turn to greet her. “Morning, hon-what the fuck?” This better be a joke. “Tell me that is a wig!”
My daughter’s beautiful, naturally auburn hair is a horrific neon red. Her forehead looks like it’s breaking out in a rash.
Teagan winces, but stubbornly lifts her chin in defiance as she comes into the kitchen.
I slam my coffee down and push to standing. “What the hell have you done?” She looks like a mad fucking clown.
She takes the breakfast plate from Clodagh, avoiding my glare. “Thanks, Clodagh.”
“Teagan,” I growl, trying to temper my anger.
Finally, her eyes meet mine as she sets the plate down and takes a seat. “It’s my hair. I can do what I want with it.”
I narrow my eyes. “No, you damn well can’t. Look at the state of your head! How the fuck do you expect to go to school like that?”
“Language, Dad.”
I lean against the counter, pinching the bridge of my nose. Give me fucking strength. “You’re twelve years old. You can’t do things like this without my permission. No, scrap that; you can’t do anything without my permission.”
“You wouldn’t have let me!” she cries, spearing her eggs with her fork. “And I’m nearly thirteen!”
“Damn right, I wouldn’t,” I yell.
She huffs as I take her chin in my hand to assess her forehead. “You look like you’re having a goddamn allergic reaction.”
I’ve had zero sleep. All I wanted was a nice breakfast with my daughter, yet here we are.
“You bought hair dye without my permission. I’ve consistently told you that you’re too young to dye your hair, yet you still went against my command.” And the cheapest foulest shit on the market, judging by the horrific state of her head. “When?”
She pulls away from my touch. “I didn’t buy any… it’s… food coloring and some Jell-O.”
I gape at her incredulously. “Are you insane?”
My chest tightens as I exhale. Is this normal behavior for young girls? Why would she want to do something so ridiculous and nasty?
“Clodagh did it when she was my age,” Teagan says defiantly.
I turn to Clodagh. She’s so quiet I’d forgotten she was in the kitchen.
She watches with her mouth open in horrified silence.
“Sorry, Clodagh,” Teagan says meekly beside me.
Clodagh swallows a mouthful of air, the cheeriness drained from her face. “I just said I hated my hair when I was younger and…” Her voice trails off. “I didn’t mean for Teagan to do it.”
“That’s what kids do, Clodagh,” I say through clenched teeth. “They mirror adults. They repeat what we do.”
Jesus Christ. This is my fault for accepting a young nanny with no experience.
“I’m nearly thirteen,” Teagan whines behind me. “I can make up my own mind.”
I whip my head around, giving my daughter a murderous look. “Teagan, if you say another word, I’m adding another week to your two-week grounding period.”
Her lips quiver as she slams the knife and fork down on her plate. “But I’m meeting Becky tomorrow. I hate you. This isn’t fair!”
“I know you hate me,” I growl. “But you still need to show me some respect.”
“A word, Clodagh,” I say through gritted teeth, nodding to the back deck. Between my daughter and her nanny, I’ll have stumps for teeth by lunchtime.
She follows me outside in silence.
“Do you have any idea how to be a responsible adult?” I snap at her as soon as she closes the sliding doors.
She frowns at me. “I don’t know if you want a serious answer to that.”
“What else did you do that I should know about? Is my daughter going to come home pregnant next?”
Her forehead creases into something angrier. “That’s really out of line, Killian. I didn’t lose my virginity until I was twenty-one if you must know. I was a late starter.”
Three years ago.
I didn’t need to know that.