Not as anything real, just as someone standing next to me, so my daughter doesn't have to see her father as the man everyone pities. " The words hung in the air between them, raw and exposed. Nathan watched Victoria's face, searching for any sign of reaction. Anger, amusement, disgust, but she gave him nothing. Her expression remained perfectly composed, perfectly unreadable, like a poker player holding the winning hand. The seconds ticked by, each one stretching into an eternity, and Nathan began to prepare himself for the rejection he knew was coming.
"I don't do things like that. " Victoria's voice was flat, final. No explanation, no apology, just a simple statement of fact. Nathan nodded slowly, absorbing the blow with the same quiet dignity that had carried him through his divorce, through the custody battles, through 3 years of raising a child alone while working 60-hour weeks. He had expected this answer. He had known, even as he walked into her office, that she would say no.
But he had asked anyway because Lily's face kept appearing in his mind. Lily watching him be dismissed, diminished, reduced to a footnote in her mother's grand romantic story. "I understand. " Nathan said, and he meant it. He turned to leave, his hand already reaching for the door handle, when Victoria's voice stopped him. "When is the wedding? " Nathan looked back over his shoulder.
Victoria had picked up her pen again, her attention seemingly returned to the documents in front of her, but she was waiting for an answer. He could tell by the stillness of her hand, the way the pen hovered motionless above the paper. "Saturday, 6:00, the Grandview Hotel. " He paused, unsure what to make of the question. "But you said— I said I don't do things like that. " Victoria's eyes flicked up to meet his, and for just a moment, Nathan thought he saw something there. Curiosity, perhaps, or something softer that he couldn't name.
"I didn't say anything else. " "Good night, Nathan. " It was a dismissal, clear and unmistakable. Nathan nodded once and left her office, closing the door quietly behind him. He walked to the elevator in a daze, replaying the conversation in his mind, trying to decode what had just happened. She had said no. That much was certain.
But she had also asked about the wedding, the date, the time, the location. Why would she need that information if she had no intention of coming? He told himself not to hope. Hope was dangerous. Hope had gotten him through his marriage, convincing him that things would get better, that Rachel would eventually see how hard he was trying, that love could survive on effort alone.
It couldn't. He had learned that lesson the hard way, signing divorce papers in a lawyer's office while Rachel talked about fresh starts and finding herself. Hope was a luxury Nathan couldn't afford anymore. He had Lily to think about. He had a job to keep.
He had a life to maintain, even if that life felt smaller and quieter than it used to be. On Friday night, Nathan laid out his suit on the bed and stared at it for a long time. It was new, not expensive, but respectable. Dark gray, well-fitted, the kind of suit a man wore when he wanted to look like he had his life together. Lily was already asleep in her room, tired from a day of school and swimming lessons, and the apartment was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic.