Page 347 of The Lies We Play

Dad’s mouth curves.

He opens his arms. “Come here.”

Liv looks at me.

I nod once.

She steps into his hug.

Dad holds her the way Dad holds people when he has already decided they belong.

“Thank you for loving my son,” Dad says quietly.

Liv freezes.

Then her arms close around him.

“Oh,” she whispers.

When he lets her go, she wipes quickly under one eye and points at him. “I was not prepared for you to be effective.”

“My children underestimate me, too.”

“I don’t,” Vesper says from behind him.

Dad looks back. “You absolutely do.”

“Only when you deserve it.”

Dad grunts, then turns to Halston.

“Halston,” Dad says.

“Mr. Lafontaine.”

“Philippe,” Dad corrects. “Or Dad, if it ever feels right. No pressure. No timeline. Just don’t call me Mr. Lafontaine. Makes me think somebody died or I’m being sued.”

Halston’s mouth almost moves.

Almost a smile.

“Philippe,” he says.

Dad nods, then offers his hand.

Halston takes it.

Dad doesn’t let it be only a handshake. He uses it to pull Halston into a hug.

Halston goes still.

He doesn’t let go too soon. He doesn’t hold too long. He gives Halston one quiet, competent embrace and says, “You’re safe in my house.”

Halston closes his eyes.

Just once.

“Thank you,” he says.