I stopped believing in fairy tales the day I caught my mother cheating with her book agent. When I was a little girl, I used to stare at my parents’ wedding photos for hours, hoping I would find a love like theirs. But true love was a myth, just like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. I still dated, but my heart wasn’t up for grabs. It wasn’t worth the risk.

Two years had flown by since Mother’s first cheating incident, even now I felt her sharp eyes following me. I glanced up from the latte I was making, meeting the cardboard cut-out across the room where it stood sentinel next to a display for her newest self-help book. Why does it have to be here? I snapped the lid on to the cup with enough force that whipped cream spattered over me.

Great. Typical Monday.

My apologetic smile at the customer was sincere, but my forthcoming excuse was a lie. “Sorry, I’m a little stressed. I have a big exam coming up.”

One of the best parts of working at Not Your Average Joe, the coffee shop across from Southern Michigan University, was blaming a bad day on the stress of college life. Customers were shockingly forgiving when SMU, ‘smoo’ to us students, was looped into the excuse.

Mother’s piercing green eyes stared at me, so similar to my own, and I heard her shrill voice scolding me about my apron. I sighed, rubbing my forehead. Had her gross agent Jack made a deal with Not Your Average Joe, just to torture me? It wasn’t enough that I had to accept her paying for college to avoid drowning in debt by graduation, I was forced to look at her overly zealous smile, towering red hair and the super low-cut neckline of her dress every shift, as well? Thanks a lot. No one needed to see that much of their mother.

I grabbed a damp cloth to clean tables in the mostly empty lobby. Somehow, I resisted the urge to throw the dirty rag at my mother’s smiling face, the face of the woman who had not only betrayed Daddy but still wouldn’t cut him loose. I swallowed the familiar stab of pain that came whenever my thoughts drifted to my parents’ façade of a marriage.

It wasn’t fair. Mother had written self-help books for most of my childhood. Her success exploded two years ago, her fame growing exponentially. Her YouTube channel instantly went viral, becoming an overnight, trendsetting sensation. Companies all over the globe vied for her to endorse products on her show, flooding her with free samples. We went from upper middle class to filthy rich with the snap of a finger, and Mother reveled in it.

Daddy had supported her through it all, celebrating her successes, encouraging her through low points and was the perfect rock for her to lean on. How did she thank him? The moment he needed her help, she shoved him aside. Even after all Daddy had done for her, the world didn’t know he existed. As his illness progressed, Mother grew more adept at keeping him in the shadows, and it became his permanent residence.

The bell on the door jangled. I looked up to find the embodiment of my turbulent thoughts sweeping into the coffee shop. Mabel Milbourne—trendsetter, fashion icon and author of the now infamous self-help book How to Land a Guy…and Keep Him!—in the flesh. Otherwise known as my mother.

“Avery, darling.” Her always blinding white teeth gleamed in a glaring smile framed by fire truck red lips. The shade matched her most definitely dyed hair, her natural color much closer to my own strawberry blonde. She was shorter than me, around five seven, and slender.

My smile was forced. “Mother.” I hurried behind the counter to wash my hands. “What do I owe the pleasure?” It was an effort to keep my tone pleasant.

Her latest boy toy sauntered up to the counter, not much older than me. I’d be twenty-one in just over a month, so at least he was legal. As he gave me an appraising grin, I fought to keep my smile in place. My teeth ground together.

“Avery, why do I need an excuse to see my daughter?” The voice was my mother’s, but the delivery had changed over the past couple of years—evidence of her speech coaches. Always trying to fit in with the upper class.

Yet another thing taken from me. I kept silent.

“Have you been getting my gifts?” Her perfectly arched eyebrow lifted ever so slightly.

“Oh, yes.” I pressed my teeth together so hard I was sure to chip a tooth.

I was almost six feet tall with curves, two traits I’d hated for most of my teenage years. I’d hunched to appear shorter, worn baggy hoodies despite our humid Michigan summers and avoided high heels at all costs. But Daddy loved me no matter my height or my weight. I’d always been his little girl, the mascot at his poker games, the one by his side watching football every Sunday. Mother, on the other hand, had always been quick to swap my chips for a celery stick or my sandwich for a salad.

Ironically, I had Mother to thank for helping me accept my body. If she hadn’t dragged me on that book tour during my senior year of high school, I never would have met Trish, her assistant. Trish taught me the art of embracing my curves, accenting my height and highlighting my best features. Because of her, I fell in love with makeup, my own brand of armor.

Mother cleared her throat, bringing me to the present. “Which gift was your favorite?”

The ‘gifts’ she spoke of were her castaways. Designers clamored to be promoted on her show or worn by her, so they sent her tokens, samples of their upcoming lines in hopes that something would strike her fancy.

I got the leftovers.

“Oh, the Hermes scarf was very colorful.” And the only thing that fit.

As a curvy girl, I was a size sixteen on a good day and I had no problem with it. For most designers, I wasn’t even close to fitting in their ‘sample-size’ range, although a select few included my size in the very upper end of their spectrum. Most of what they sent was meant for Mother or one of her models.

“Yes, dear, that scarf was adorable.” She gave me a placating smile.

My taste was yet another thing never quite up to her standards. Even if I wore every article of clothing she gave me, I still wouldn’t please her. Instead, I prided myself in not using any of her gifts. I stored them in a rented warehouse, to be used for charity functions or to auction off for a good cause. Occasionally, I dipped into them for my own fun, but never for day-to-day expenses. I was determined to pave my own way, with the exception of her much-needed assistance with tuition.

Mother drummed her nails on the counter, a sign she was gearing up for the real reason for her visit.

“Can I get you something?” I gestured to the menu behind me.

Boy Toy beamed, rattling off his order as well as Mother’s standard frappuccino like a well-trained puppy. It took some effort to hold in the words ‘Good boy’. I wondered if his butt would wag.

I had to ask now, or I knew I wouldn’t get the chance. “How’s Daddy? Did you look over those facilities I sent you?” Daddy needed more help than she was willing to give him, and I could only do so much.

Her eyes widened, and she glanced from side to side. “What have I told you about speaking about that in public?”

“But—”

“He’s doing just fine. At home.” She inhaled deeply. “Now, about my coffee?”

Several minutes later, I handed them their drinks.

Mother took a sip. “Delicious. Your shift is over soon, right?”

I froze, realizing it was one of those nights. She wanted to cash in her ‘I pay for your college so you owe me’ chip. I swallowed, nodding.

A Cheshire Cat smile slid over her face. “Wonderful.” She turned to Boy Toy. “Go tell Jack to keep the car running.” She watched him go, taking another sip of her drink before she addressed me once more. “We’ll wait outside, and you can join us for dinner. I have several important people for you to meet.” Her smile was still in place, but her eyes were hard, telling me just how important this was to her.

My chest tightened. The obligation rested heavily on me as I weighed my options against the old well of anger simmering in my gut. I knew she only wanted me there to show me off. I rounded out her image, softening her persona by showing her maternal side. I avoided high society functions whenever I could, out of spite mostly, but it also wasn’t a crowd I wanted to belong to.

Not to mention I’d had a full day of classes and worked a six-hour shift. I had homework to do yet. And I was a mess.

“Mother, tonight’s not a great—”

“Avery.” Steel wound through the syllables. “I’ve already told people you’re coming. As part of our agreement, you committed to attending functions occasionally. This is one you will be attending.” There was no room for argument.

Boy Toy met Mother at the door, shooting me a smirk as he escorted her out.

Only ten minutes before my shift ends. Not much time to finagle my way out of this.

I hurried to finish wiping down the lobby, my brain racing over my options. I’d gotten out of dinners before, but Mother knew my tricks well enough now. After I continually evaded Jack, Mother had started bringing along backup. Hence Boy Toy’s presence.

My shift over, I rushed through goodbyes to my coworkers, then peeked outside. I shook my head at the portly agent lingering out front. It was pathetic how Jack followed my mother around, begging for any shred of her attention, despite her moving on from him ages ago. He was still her agent, but nothing more. Boy Toy wasn’t in sight, and the Town Car’s tinted windows gave nothing away. He could be in there with Mother, but I doubted it.

The back door for employees seemed the best route for escape, so I hurried to it, wishing it had a window. I pushed open the door to find Boy Toy casually leaning against a nearby tree, a sleazy grin sliding across his face.

Panic at being caught flared in me, but I shoved it aside, plastering on a smile and tossing my ponytail over my shoulder. I grabbed the door before it closed, forming a plan on the spot. I kept my cool, sounding casual. “Hey, Mother sent me to get you.” Hopefully, Mother’s only dating him for his looks.

Boy Toy eyed me. “She did?”

I forced my voice to stay even. “Mm hmm. I’m ready to go,” I said sweetly. “Meet you around front?”

He nodded, shoving both hands into his pockets before strolling away.

That was just too easy. I stepped inside, letting the door close until there was only a sliver big enough to watch him walk around the corner as I studied the paths I could take.

In front of me sprawled Southern Michigan University’s pristine campus. SMU’s maze of buildings and sidewalks teemed with students this time of evening as the dinner hour approached. Perfect.

As soon as Boy Toy disappeared from sight, I tightened my grip on my backpack and sprinted toward the street separating me from campus. It wasn’t a busy road, and I darted right across it. I heard Jack shout when I reached the middle, but I didn’t risk a glance until I was safely on the other side.

Jack wasn’t in great shape. To say he ran after me was a gross misrepresentation—lumbered was a better word. Boy Toy still hadn’t caught on, buying me time since he had the only chance at catching me. Game on.

I headed for the first group of students I saw, weaving around them and ducking behind the nearest building. Unfortunately this led me to a fairly wide-open space. Dammit.

My pursuers in sight now, I raced for a gap between two buildings, disappearing between them, then took a sharp right. I glanced over my shoulder, relieved to have lost them for the moment. My steps slowed to a fast walk as I rounded another corner. I scanned the area, my gaze landing on the perfect cover—a tall, dark, and handsome guy leaning against the brick wall of the Franklin building, scrolling on his phone. I yanked the hair tie out of my ponytail, my hair cascading to my waist. My movement caught his eye as I shed my jean jacket and rolled down the waistband of my plaid skirt. His bright blue eyes widened as I approached.

He hasn’t seen anything yet.

With a brilliant smile and a seductive toss of my hair, I closed the distance between us. My jean jacket dropped over his bag as I grabbed his blue striped tie, yanking his lips onto mine. He was taller than I’d thought, which was something coming from me.

Before he could pull away, I spun us around, so his firm body pressed me against the brick wall, wrapping my leg around his waist to keep him there. He didn’t seem to mind. A deep groan rumbled through his chest, and he kissed me back, hungrily. My stomach flipped as I threaded my fingers through his black hair, just the right length to hold on to.

Footsteps rounded the corner, and I peeked over to see Boy Toy sprint by. Right, this is supposed to be my cover… Just then, the hot guy deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth against mine and doing this amazing thing with his tongue. My eyes fluttered shut again, my turn to moan.

Another set of footsteps ran by, accompanied by some huffing and puffing. I managed to catch a glimpse of Jack. It was several moments before I registered that the sound had disappeared and I unwrapped myself from the guy, giving him a gentle push away. He stared at me as we both caught our breath.

Why isn’t it illegal to have eyes as brilliant a blue as his? One might drown in them. I blinked a few times to regain my senses, abruptly realizing he was waiting for me to say something. My defenses slid back into place. So did my smile, as I gathered my wits, striving to be the very picture of at ease and flippant.

“Thanks for the diversion,” I said, grabbing my jacket. And I hurried off in the opposite direction my pursuers had gone. Mission accomplished.

I was almost to the library when I received a text from Mother.

No gifts for you for a month.

I rolled my eyes and went to study.

* * * *

The following day, my morning class wrapped up, and I hurried across campus to Michigan Ave to flag down a taxi. I was going to be late for my weekly lunch date. Every Wednesday, Mother had a weekly spa appointment, and I took advantage of her absence to sneak in one-on-one time with Daddy.

“Where to?”

Shit. Normally, I had the address ready. “Um, just a sec.” I fumbled for my phone, heat rising in my face as anxiety coiled in my stomach.

Me and numbers did not get along. I always struggled to keep even the basics like addresses and phone numbers straight in my brain. Since Mother moved last year, hauling Daddy along with her, I wasn’t confident enough to rattle it off.

The driver snapped his gum. “You know where you’re going or not?”

“Sorry, I…” I stopped. “I forgot my wallet.” I rushed out, onto the sidewalk.

The yellow cab drove away, the engine roaring as if it too were huffing at me.

I blinked until the sting of embarrassment dissipated, then pulled up Uber. A few seconds later, I had a response and a much easier ride.

Patty, Mother’s cook, waited in the open doorway, tapping her foot. “Cutting it close, hmm?” Patty had been with our family forever. She’d been around before…before my mother became famous, before Mother had cheated on Daddy, before the diagnosis. She was family to me.

My humiliation too fresh for me to hide, I ducked my chin.

“Oh, child, what happened?” She pulled me to her ample bosom, the familiar smell of vanilla and lemon embracing me along with her thick arms.

“Why did Mother have to move? The other house was just fine.”

She clicked at me, with a knowing smile. “Still having trouble with the address?” Her warm hand patted my back as I nodded, then she guided me inside. “It’ll get better, child. Now get on down there before Kyle gets his knickers in a wad.”

My footsteps thudded as I jogged down the marble hallway of the way too big house. It wasn’t quite a mansion, with only five bedrooms, but it was definitely more house than the two of them needed. Three if I had to include Boy Toy.

I tapped on Daddy’s door, greeting Kyle with a grin. Daddy’s caregiver just looked at his watch before arching an eyebrow at me.

“I know, I know. But I’m here!”

A reluctant smile crossed his face. “See you in an hour, Miss Avery.”

“Bye, Kyle.”

Daddy’s eyes stayed fixed on the TV, and I waited by the door, content to watch him. Gone was the robust man, full of life and laughter. The man I used to run to, my arms wide open so he could swing me high above his head in a dizzying circle before crushing me in a bear hug. In his place lay a pale, thin person, frailty evident in every movement. Alzheimer’s had stolen so much of him from me.

Patty bustled in with her noisy cart, rumbling and clinking. “All right Steve, time to eat some lunch. I made your favorite.” Daddy’s eyes met hers, then she looked my way. “And you’ve got a special guest today. This is Avery.”

A smile tipped up his lips. “My daughter’s name is Avery.”

The small bit of hope that sparked to life every time she introduced me burned out when he returned my smile with a blank stare. I was a stranger to him. I pushed aside the sharp stab of pain and forced my smile wider. “Hi, Steve. I heard you’re a big Lions fan.”

As we ate, we talked about football—nothing current of course, only the glory days. And he told me stories of poker games past where his daughter had helped him, his little shadow. It was difficult hearing stories about me, his favorite mascot. But knowing he remembered, that he treasured those stories, made it bearable.

I was grateful I’d had that time with him—the poker and whiskey and football, all the things we’d shared when I was growing up. At least those memories were still intact for him. For now.

The hardest part was when he spoke about Mother. His eyes would go tender, a loving light shining through as my heart gained another layer of ice. “Oh my Mabel, she sure is something. This one time…”

As soon as I could, I steered him to another subject. Before I knew it, the hour was up.

I wanted to hug him goodbye, to call him Daddy, but it would only agitate him. So I settled for a handshake. “Thanks for lunch, Steve. I hope we can do it again soon.” My voice cracked on the last word, and I cleared my throat.

He nodded. “That’d be nice. I don’t get many visitors here. It’s been ages since I’ve seen my daughter. I miss her.”

His words stabbed at my heart with an edge sharper than a steak knife, and I blinked at the tears pricking my eyes. “I’m sure she misses you, too.” The tightness in my throat intensified.

His head bobbed a few times before he settled back against his pillow, his eyes fixed on the TV as if I weren’t even there anymore.

I watched him from the doorway for a moment, feeling as if I’d been turned to cellophane, invisible in every way. Then I spun on my heel and made a quick getaway, not wanting Patty to grill me about my damp cheeks.