We both look over to the window where Elle is ordering our food. Frankie’s Burger Hut is a small, hole-in-the-wall place with dirty picnic tables outside under an awning, paper towels on wooden dowel stands, and what appears to be a fox mascot. Frankie the Fox. I get it. But the painting is half-worn and his eyes give him a glazed look, almost making him look . . . high? Well, okay, then.

“How did you end up with this as your place? It doesn’t seem quite like you.”

Daniel smiles, lost to the past. “Elle, of course. Frankie’s used to have commercials on Saturday mornings during cartoons. There was a jingle the animated fox sang, something about Frankie’s being frankly the best. It was awful, and Elle used to sing it constantly, begging to come see the fox. For a while, I had pictures of her next to that painting, like a growth chart as she got taller, older.”

I can see what she means about this being their place, and I suddenly feel out of place even though I was invited.

Elle reappears with three baskets of burgers, balancing them all easily, much to my surprise. She’s not exactly known for being graceful, after all.

“Stryker special for Dad, BBQ gut blaster for me, and a basic for you, Colton. Figured I’d start you off easy so you didn’t get too scared.”

I look down at Daniel’s, which is stacked with thick slices of tomatoes and avocado and wrapped in lettuce leaves instead of a bun. Then to Elle’s, which is a mess of brown sauce, bacon slices, and I think I see an onion ring peeking out from inside the burger? Finally, to mine, which is a pretty standard cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato, and onion. I feel grateful for my basic burger and say, “Thank you.”

We begin eating, and I can’t help but smile as Elle picks up her monstrosity of a burger with two hands and takes a huge bite, getting sauce along her cheek. I hold up a paper towel, but she shakes her head. “No sense in cleaning up now because I’ll only get messy again with the next bite. I’ll clean up when I’m done.”

Daniel laughs. “She’s yours now. No returns, no exchanges, no backsies.”

Elle growls, spitting out a tiny bit of burger, but she catches it with her thumb, shoving it back into her mouth. My brows raise. I can only imagine her at a proper tea.

Somehow, she swallows her bite and turns to Daniel. “So, what’s up, Dad?”

Daniel sets his burger back in his basket. “Actually, I have ulterior motives for lunch today. Both with work and with you two.”

I bristle. Daniel and I have made peace over the last few weeks as Elle and I have returned to work and the set-in-stone plans for HQ2 have gotten underway. But I haven’t forgotten, nor has he, that the peace accord is tenuous and predicated on my not fucking up, or fucking over his daughter.

Or fucking his daughter, but I am doing that quite often. We just don’t speak of such things, nor do we do it in public anymore. Ever again.

Dares be damned, we’re strictly behind-closed-and-locked-doors types now.

“I spoke with Allan Fox yesterday. He’s quite pleased with how the London project is going, looking forward to sending you overseas, in fact. Doesn’t seem to give two shits that he’s sending my girl too.”

Oh, fuck. Is Daniel going to come to London? I mean, technically, Allan could choose my proposal of the London site and then still assign someone else to be Regional President. Say, Daniel Stryker, for example?

“You don’t say.” My voice is tight, the few bites of burger sitting in my belly like stones.

“Seems he’s rather excited to go back and forth between the US and the UK, take the wife on a grand tour of Europe.”

His eyes lock on mine, holding me in place.

“But to do so, he wants a bit more freedom. Said he wants to ride the Tube wherever it may lead, though we both know he won’t step foot in the Tube. He’ll take a chauffeur every mile of the way.”

I think of Oliver instantly. “I know a great guy who could help get Allan and his wife anywhere they want to go.”

We’re tap dancing, shuffling around something, but only he knows what.

Daniel nods. “But to have that freedom, he’ll need someone to not only handle the London HQ” —his chin lifts, indicating me— “but someone to handle US operations too.” That smirk is pure victory.

“You, I take it?” I say with a smile. I’m not mad. It’s a rather bloody brilliant solution.

“Yes, so you’ll be Regional President and I’ll be CEO.”

“Dad! That’s awesome!” Elle yells, getting several tables’ attention. She leans over, pressing a BBQ-sauced kiss to Daniel’s cheek.

He chuckles, wiping at the smear with his paper towel. “Thanks, baby girl. Looks like I’ll be your boss, after all. And Colton’s, too.”

Threat and delight mix together in a perfectly veiled statement. Well fuckin’ played, Daniel.

I hold out a hand. “Congratulations, Boss.”

“Thanks, Son.” The nickname is a shock, a blessing on my relationship with his daughter, at the same time telling me to get my arse in gear.

If Elle’s leaving the nest and moving overseas with me, renovating what will be our home, and making a life with me, I’d better fuckin’ make it official. Fast.

Epilogue

Elle

“You can’t go. I simply won’t allow it. Or I know . . . I dare you . . . to stay right here with me.” Tiffany acts as though she’s found the hidden switch that will enable her to win her way.

She’s sideways across a chair in the living room, head lolled back and legs bent over the arm.

“Tiff, we’ve been through this. I’ve been going back and forth from the US to London for half a year now while we got the site built and ready. It’s time.” She pouts, her bottom lip poking out adorably. I grab it, much like Nan does your ear if you piss her off, and wiggle her face back and forth. “You’re going to be fine. You’ve got a great apartment—”

“Because I stole yours.”

“Taking over the lease,” I clarify. “You’ve got an amazing car.” That one hurt, but shipping Cammie overseas was ridiculously expensive. It was cheaper to just buy a new car once in London, and as Colton reminded me, he was richer than God and could afford to buy me any car I wanted. But Cammie’s going to good hands, at least, now that Tiffany knows how to drive a stick.

“Again, stole yours.”

“Bought it free and clear at a slight discount. A bigshot job that you earned.” I dare her to disagree on that one. Colton’s exit led to a large amount of shuffling as some people chose to follow him to London.

It meant that Miranda moved up to the executive floor as an operations leader, filling in some of the oversight roles Colton had previously managed. The management ones that were beyond Miranda were handed off to other VPs. And that rearrangement put Tiffany into Miranda’s old role. She’s the front desk supervisor now, in charge of Megan and two other new girls.

Tiffany doesn’t hide her haughty arrogance. “I am a badass boss. And at least now, I don’t have to see Ricky and Miranda making out in the copy room. My best guess is that they’re sneaking off up on the fifth floor.” I bet she’s right but don’t throw Ricky under the bus.