Chapter 19 #3
“Dad.” His expression softens immediately.
“I worry about you, Antonia.”
I know. That’s the problem. Because worrying becomes protecting with him. And protecting becomes control before either of us notices. Before I can answer, Elena reappears carrying tiramisu.
“Good,” she announces. “Nobody looks emotionally devastated anymore.”
“We were having a normal conversation,” I say.
“Frank has sad eyes,” Elena replies immediately.
My father nearly chokes on his coffee. “I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I’ve officiated playoff hockey for decades.”
“And underneath that, sadness.” She sets dessert down in front of him. “Eat your tiramisu.”
He looks at the plate. Then at her. Then — impossibly — obeys. I gawk now, my mouth hanging open. “This is unbelievable.”
Elena points her fork at me triumphantly. “See? He needs supervision.”
Frank shakes his head slowly, but he’s smiling now. Relaxed enough to look like himself. And suddenly I understand exactly why Elena likes him. That realization hits approximately one second before the door buzzer rings on my phone. All three of us freeze.
Elena frowns. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No.” Frank glances toward the phone. Then toward me. His eyes snap into focus. And for the first time all night, unease slides faintly down my spine. “Hello?”
“Toni?” Piper’s voice crackles warmly through the intercom. “Please tell me you’re home because I have cannoli and a childcare-induced emotional breakdown.”
I blink. Behind me, Elena gasps. “Cannoli.”
Frank sets his coffee down. “Let her up.”
I turn slowly. “You’re taking the side of a stranger because of dessert?”
“She sounds stressed,” he says calmly. “And she has cannoli.”
Traitor. I buzz Piper in. Thirty seconds later, the apartment door swings open, and Piper stumbles inside, balancing two bakery boxes, an oversized tote bag, and approximately seventeen levels of exhaustion.
“Okay,” she says breathlessly. “Before anybody judges me, Chase took the kids to the indoor playground, and I bought pastries I refuse to eat alone.” Then she notices my father sitting at the table. Piper freezes. “Oh my God,” she whispers. “I interrupted family dinner.”
“You brought cannoli,” Frank says gravely. “You’re welcome here.”
Piper visibly relaxes. “You know what? I like him.”
“Everybody likes him,” I mutter.
“Not hockey players,” Frank replies automatically.
That earns him a startled laugh from Piper as she steps fully into the apartment and hands Elena one of the pastry boxes.
“This is Piper,” I explain carefully. “She’s—”
“Max Stevens’ sister,” Frank finishes smoothly. The room goes still for half a beat. My spine locks instantly.
Piper blinks. “You know Max?”
Frank’s expression remains perfectly neutral. Too neutral. “I know of him.” Danger. Immediate danger. Professional-officiating calm. That's the dangerous kind. Elena senses it too, because her eyes widen over the wineglass.
Piper, oblivious, smiles warmly. “Well, he adores Toni, so I already feel like we’re connected spiritually.”
I nearly aspirate my own oxygen. “Piper,” I hiss.
“What?” She looks genuinely confused. “He does. I have eyes.”
Frank’s gaze slides toward me slowly. Steady. Controlled. Terrifying. “Toni works with the Guardians,” he says measured.
“Yes,” Piper says brightly, setting down the pastry boxes. “And Max has been emotionally unstable about it since approximately day three.”
“PIPER.”
“What? Elena already knows!”
Elena raises her hand immediately. “I absolutely know.”
My father leans back in his chair slightly. Observing. That’s always been the dangerous part with him. He notices everything.
Piper finally seems to realize she may have walked directly into a minefield. “Oh no,” she says softly. “Did I accidentally do hockey politics?”
“No,” I say too quickly.
“Yes,” Elena says at the same time.
Frank’s eyes remain on me. “Antonia.” That tone alone could stop traffic. I straighten instinctively. “It’s professional.”
“Mhm.”
God, I hate when he mhms.
Piper looks between us nervously. “For what it’s worth, Max talks about her like she hung the moon.”
Silence detonates across the kitchen. I close my eyes. Elena looks delighted. And my father, he gets very still. Evaluating. Something new landing. Like he’s suddenly fitting pieces together he didn’t realize existed. “Interesting,” he says finally.
Piper immediately points at herself. “I’d like the record to show I came here with sugar and good intentions.”
Frank nods once. “I believe you.”
“You’re intimidating when you’re polite,” Piper blurts out.
To my absolute horror, Frank laughs. “You sound exactly like my daughter.”
“Because she’s terrifying too,” Piper says.
“PIPER.”
“What? You are!”
Elena is openly crying, laughing now into her wineglass while Piper unpacks cannoli onto plates, as if emotional support pastries can reverse the damage she’s caused.
Frank watches the chaos calmly for another moment. Then, very casually, he says, “So, Max Stevens talks about my daughter.”
It is not a question. That somehow makes it much, much worse.