“Yeah,” I say, my brows furrowing in confusion. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s nothing,” she mutters.
I watch her carefully, noting the panic written plainly on her face, making it obvious that there is something wrong. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to press the matter.
We enter the mansion and are ushered through to a ballroom.
There are tables set up for people to eat at with white table cloths. The rest of the room seems to be reserved for dancing and mingling.
I place my hand against the small of Nova’s back and search the tables for my father.
It’s better to get this introduction over now rather than later.
I finally spot my father speaking to another man by the bar, a scotch in his hand.
He looks exactly the same as the last time I saw him nearly a year ago.
We have the same angular cheekbones, sharp nose, and full lips. Even our hair is the same color, though his is turning gray. The only thing I have from my mother is my green eyes. My dad has pale-blue eyes. It’s like they’re leached of color and happiness.
Nova shuffles awkwardly at my side, her head swiveling from left to right as she tries to take in everyone and everything.
I lean down to whisper in her ear, “That’s my dad.” I don’t point. Pointing is frowned upon, but I look in his direction and I know that we favor enough that she won’t be able to mistake who I’m speaking of.
When the man my dad’s speaking to finally leaves, I guide Nova over to him.
My father sees us coming and he looks us both over carefully.
“Jacen,” he says in greeting when we stop in front of him.
“Father,” I reply. “This is Novalee.”
“Novalee what?” he hisses. “I taught you how to properly introduce someone, I expect you to do it.”
I need a drink and the night’s only just begun.
“Novalee Clarke,” I say, the words grating through my teeth.
He smiles in satisfaction. “Do you speak?” he asks Nova.
“Y-Yes, sir,” she stutters, her eyes still flitting around nervously.
I give her a peculiar look. It’s not like Nova to lose her cool like this. Something more is going on, and I don’t understand what it is.
“Dad,” I hiss. “Be nice. She’s my date.”
“Whom you didn’t inform me that was coming. That wasn’t very thoughtful of you, Jacen.”
Suddenly, I feel like I’ve been transported back to the past. I no longer stand in the ballroom, instead I’m a scared six-year-old boy, standing in the kitchen as his father scolds him for making a mess while he was trying to make a sandwich.
“He’s just a boy,” my mom told him.
“A boy must learn to be a man from the start.”
I shake my head back and forth, returning to the present. “Nova, this is my father, Heath. Dad, we’re going to find a table.”
I grab Nova’s hand and start to pull her away.
“We weren’t finished,” my dad calls after us.