In Between the Lines

Chapter 1: Sex on Legs

"What should Marco and I make for you when you get back? Do you want chicken parmesan? No, wait. I'm sure you're sick of Italian by now. Are you in the mood for anything in particular? How was Florence, by the way? Did you end up closing the deal?"

"Florence was beautiful, honey. Even better in the spring. I think you'd love the—"

"Oh, I know!" I jumped. "How about Japanese? We haven't had Japanese in a while. Do you want sushi? I read that sushi's pretty challenging to make, but I'm sure Marco can teach me. What time does the jet get in tomorrow, anyway? Just so we know when to start making the food. I hope the weather's okay for take off. It's been fine over here. Do you think—"

"Lyra, slow down before you pass out!" My father's low chuckle sounded through the phone. "I don't want you going blue on me before I get back. Who would I have dinner with then?"

I laughed, taking a seat on the edge of our pool, and dipped my feet into the warm waters. The pool extended over to the edge of our yard, giving the slight illusion of being connected to the ocean just beyond it. The very tip of the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon now, staining the skies above and the waters below in soft hues of pink and gold.

It was 6:20 AM in Veranda Grove, which meant it was roughly 3:20 PM in Italy. Dad would be leaving for his flight in less than twenty-four hours.

"Well, I'm sure Gina wouldn't mind going to dinner with you," I said. "I heard her divorce was finalized just yesterday—if you're catching my drift."

"How did you . . . " My father cleared his throat, the subtle shift in his tone hiding nothing about his feelings towards our next door neighbor. "I mean, good for her. Jack was a nasty guy. She deserves someone better."

"You mean someone like you?"

"Lyra, please don't start with this again."

"You've got to start dating again, Dad.  Mom's moved on." I tried—and failed—to hide the bitterness in my tone. "Why shouldn't you?"

He sighed. "Me being hundreds of miles away right now is not the right time to have that conversation."

"I'm just putting it out there."

"I know, and I love you for it. But I don't think relationship advice from my seventeen-year-old daughter is something I need right now."

I shook my head.

"Don't shake your head at me."

What?

I shot up instantly, glaring at one of the many cameras installed in our backyard. "So you get security footage all the way out there too? Are you kidding me?"

"Lyra . . ."

I turned away from the cameras to hide my expression from him. I was too bad of a liar—and unfortunately for me, my dad was too good at reading me. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you," I said in between deep breaths. The breeze coming in from the ocean suddenly felt cold. "You don't have to explain."

"I think I do." I could hear my father struggling to find the right words. "You know I've always tried my best not to play the scary and over-protective dad. But after what happened last year, there are just some precautions we have to take. Being this far away from you all the time, leaving you home alone, I can't help but worry—"

"I'm not alone. Marco and Elise are here with me," I said, referring to our house chef and maid.

"You know that's not what I meant."