I see my father waiting for me on a quaint rattan chair at a small table for two, pretending to read a newspaper. I try to calm my nerves and will myself to be patient, keep an open mind.

"I was worried you wouldn't come," he says genuinely sounding relieved when I approach him. The corner of his mouth pulls slightly as he motions for me to sit and quickly puts away his paper.

"So, Jeremy says you'll be staying for a couple of nights," I start, wishing he was beside me right now.

God, I hate how I still need him.

"Three," Mark answers. "Then I have to go back to the centre. I'm on leave at the moment. But I'm doing well. I haven't set foot in a casino for over a year. And I haven't bought any lotto tickets or scratch cards or anything in almost six months. But I go back every week for my session with the therapist and sometimes they take tests to see if I've been drinking..."

He stops weakly as he tries to gauge my reaction. I feel sorry for him. I hate seeing him reduced to this. I can barely associate him with the strong, confident man he used to be. I reach out over the table and place my hand over his.

"That's great, Dad," I say, my voice coming out void of emotion.

The waiter comes up to us to take our order. "I'll just have a coffee, please. Black, no sugar."

"Aren't you going to eat anything, champ?" he says, his face crestfallen.

"I'm not hungry," I reply softly. I don't want to upset him.

He orders an egg and cheese salad and a bottle of sparkling water.

"So, tell me," he says as soon as the waiter disappears. "What have you been up to?"

What have I been up to?

"Well, I... I'm working in a school and I'm studying. I just started, really. I started English and Philosophy classes last summer, then I enrolled for a diploma, but I had to stop when Millie got sick. And then she passed on and I sort of had a bit of a rough time after that. I couldn't really focus on studying at all. But now, since I've been living with Jeremy, I'm trying to get back on track."

I stop talking, astonished at how simple it all sounds. The reality is something else altogether though.

"Yes, Jeremy. How do you two know each other?"

"I used to work for him."

What the hell, Ally?

"Used to?" Mark presses.

"Yeah. He had a store. I used to work there. But he sold it and now he's renovating this amazing house. He's turning it into a boutique hotel. It's beautiful and it's really great for him. It's his dream..."

My voice trails off. I don't know why I'm getting all choked up. I'm so proud of him, despite everything...

Good God, what the hell is wrong with me?

I clear my throat and lift my eyes back to Mark.

"I see," he says, clearly not satisfied with my answer. "But how did you end up living with him then?"

Not even if we had all the time in the world would I be able to answer that. So, instead I just say, "He was really good friends with Nanna Millie. She adored him because he can cook really well." I feel like such a fraud. "Well, it wasn't just that... He was there for her when she was sick. And for me. And after she died he dug me out of a pretty deep hole."

And shoved me into an even deeper one...

"Yeah," he sighs, after a while. "So, this living arrangement, is it temporary?"

"I... I'm not sure."

"Oh," he answers with a deep scowl. "But you are not, you know, together?"

"No."

"Okay. I thought he was a bit old for you," he follows with a nervous laugh. "I mean he has to be in his thirties, right?"

"He's eleven years older than me," I confirm, trying to sound neutral and not irritated at all.

"Right. So, do you have a... a guy?"

"Really?" I exclaim, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. "I haven't seen you in five years and you want to talk about my love life?"

This comes out harsher than I intend it to, but I really don't want to talk about something so personal with him. I watch his face fall as he realises he crossed the line.

"I'm sorry," I mumble finally. "I just... I wasn't expecting you. I'm still processing this, that's all. I'm sorry... about what I said to you on the phone when you tried to reach out. And I'm sorry I never called back "

"Come on, Ally, I get it! I was a rotten father-"

"No, you weren't," I stop him. "You had your own shit to get though. I was upset because I felt alone. I wasn't thinking about what you were going through at all. And I was so angry that you lied to Millie about the money. She took me in despite how you alienated her from mum and from me. But that's not an excuse. You and mum raised me better than that. I should never have turned my back on you. I am glad you're here."

I squeeze his hand to show him that I mean it. His blue-green eyes look hurt at first but then they widen and fortify with hope.

"Alison, I never meant to keep you away from your grandmother. And when I asked her to take you in for a couple of months, I genuinely thought I could pick up the pieces while she helped you mourn your mother. Then, when I saw the money she was sending... I wasn't ready. I'm sorry. I can never justify that."

"It was a long time ago. We moved on and it was fine. I just wish I had more time with her. She wasn't a bad person, you know? On the contrary, she was the most marvellous woman... She just missed her daughter."

Mark looks at me shiftily as he drums his fingers on the table. "I think there's something you should know," he starts.

My heart sinks. Please don't tell me there are more secrets. I don't know if I can take any more.

"I wasn't the one who wanted to keep Emily away. It was your mother. It was because of me, yes. Emily didn't think I was good enough for Marija, and she was right, of course. But I loved your mother. I still do. And maybe that's why it was so hard to be around you when she... when she died. You look so much like her! It was like a stab in the gut every time I looked at you. I don't think your grandmother could ever see it though. She hated me and blamed me for moving Marija to London. But Marija was the one who wanted to go. She could never forgive Emily for trying to keep us apart, because damn it if she didn't try everything!" He lets out a short laugh as he reminisces on the past. "It took a lot of convincing for Marija to tell Emily she was sick and that's when they finally patched things up, just a few weeks before... she left us."

I gape at my dad, certain that he is lying. Then I remember my Millie's words.

Your mother and I didn't see eye to eye for a long time...

"I'm sorry, I wasn't going to tell you. But I don't want you thinking I'm more of a monster than I am."

I see my father's broken face and the words are out of my mouth before I even think them.

"You're not a monster. You're my dad!"

"I'm so happy to hear you say that, Champ," he sighs in relief, visibly pulling himself together before my very eyes. I see a hint of the man he used to be. "Because I was hoping you'd consider coming back to the U.K. with me."

The waiter arrives with my coffee and his salad and I just sit there, staring, feeling my core body temperature drop by three degrees.

#

I sit in the balcony watching the cars go by, enjoying the fresh breeze on my face.

Go easy on him. Things aren't always the way they seem to be.

He knew. Of course, he knew. She told him. I can see them as though they're in front of me right now, talking about how Keith wasn't good for me just like my father was not good for her daughter. She lost her but she wouldn't make the same mistake with me.

I hear his key in the lock. He calls out my name to check if I'm home but I know he saw my blue Opel parked outside. I brace myself and walk into the living room slowly.

His suit, hair and stubble are trickled with dust. His forehead is a little sweaty but his face is alive. He's been busy and he's loving it. I can tell. I smile as I see his bright eyes happy, full of pride and self-satisfaction because he's finally doing what he's always wanted to do. I look at him and try to associate him with the person I thought I had all figured out a year ago, just before he showed up with a bottle of water and a bag of pastizzi outside a nightclub.

"Hey," he says as he sets a bag of groceries and a bottle of wine on the island. "You didn't come to the hotel. Is everything okay?"

I nod slowly, watching him stack the items neatly in their place.

"How was lunch?" he asks cautiously.

The gloom in my chest doubles.

"Lunch was good," I answer.

He turns to me questioningly hearing the sadness in my voice. He rests against the counter and focuses his ice-blue eyes on me and I know I have his undivided attention.

"We talked," I start, dropping my eyes to the floor. "We talked and it was good. As you said, he's my dad and I shouldn't take that for granted. He's the only family I have left."

Jeremy is completely still. He doesn't say anything. But the air around us becomes heavy. I breathe out and force myself to keep my eyes fixed on him.

"He asked me to go back to London with him."

My voice comes out strong, which is totally the opposite of how I feel. I hate it. It's traitorous in my ears. We stand there for the longest time, Jeremy looking at me and I at him, both of us rooted to the ground. I will my legs to stay still so he doesn't notice my shaking knees.

"What did you tell him?"

The tremble in his voice makes me shudder. I can't tell if he is angry or upset. I look away from him, blinking rapidly, trying not to think about our kiss last night.

"Ally, what did you tell him?"

His voice rises and I'm forced to look into his hellish face. The sharp angles of his face look mutinous, his lips pressed so tightly together I can barely tell where his mouth is. I open my mouth to speak several times but nothing comes out. I hate myself for being so weak around him.

"Christ, Ally, you can't be serious!" He steps towards me clasping his hands behind his head. "Tell me you're not seriously thinking of going back!"

His eyes are in danger of falling out of his head. "Ally!"

"I'm going. I already booked the tickets. It's done," I blurt out.

"You what?" he cries in disbelief. "You booked the Goddamn tickets? Really? That's how badly you want to get away from me?"

"This has nothing to do with you!"

"Yes, it does and you know it! You're running away again! Just like you always do!"

This angers me. He's being out of line. I knew he wouldn't take it well but I don't deserve this.

"I'm running away? You've been running away from your life, from your feelings for me for years!"

"Yes, but I'm here now! I am right here, ready do to anything for you and you're leaving!"

"I have to go back to my life-"

"What life?" he yells, his face positively red and livid. "Your life is here! With me! You don't have anything left in London!"

"I don't have anything left here!"

I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. His face goes from scarlet to a dangerous white. His eyes burn right through me. He bites on the inside of his cheek as he tries to control his emotions.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," I mumble.

He keeps looking straight at me, his nostrils flaring like a dragon's.

"Don't go," he says in a low voice, fraught with emotion.

"Jeremy, please-"

"Don't go!" he says again with more desperation.

"I have to go. He's my father."

He shakes his head. "He'll still be your father if you stay. You can still make it work. We can make it work."

"No, we can't," I whisper, fighting the urge to run into his arms or far away from him or anywhere that's not this hell of being neither close enough nor far enough.

"Why not?" he pleads.

I look away again, nesting my lungs around my heart to keep it from exploding. How can he possibly not see how dangerous the hold he has on me is? He sees through everything! How can he not see through this?

"I know I've been horrible to you. I know I've been selfish and it's killing me, probably for all the wrong reasons. But I'm trying to fix this! I'm trying to change-"

"Why are you making this so damn hard?" I cry through gritted teeth. "Why does everything that has to do with you have to be so damn hard? Do you have to torture me every time?"

"I'm torturing you? Fuck, Ally! You're standing here, telling me that you're leaving the God damn country because you have nothing here, because I am nothing, and I'm the one who's torturing you?"

"Yes!" I scream. "Yes! Because that is what you do! It was hell getting to know you and it was hell when you left! And then you came back and you made it hell for me to stay away from you! You made me feel things for you! Things that scare the shit out of me, Jeremy, because I'm going to be a crumpled mess on the pavement with nowhere to go and no one to go to when you decide to leave me again!"

"Leave? Where the fuck do you want me to go? I can't even go to the next room without wanting to run back to you! I love you, Ally! Can't you see that? I fucking love you!"

Everything goes blurry. I can't hold them back anymore. The tears are relentless and I'm absolutely powerless against them. There he is, doing what I'd been begging him to do all this time. Being honest. Letting me in. Standing in front of me, with his heart and soul wide open, telling me how he feels. And here I am, two seconds away from breaking him because I can't do the same thing for him.

I watch in horror as the tears form in his eyes. They run down his face and his hard lips quiver, but he goes on.

"I'm not asking anything you to do anything. You don't even have to say it back. Not now, not ever. Just stay with me, Ally. Please."

His face is desperate and beautiful face as he waits for me to say something. I realise that it's my turn now. I'm the one who needs to wear the mask. So, I do it. I put on the mask for both of us, just like he did after we danced on the beach, when he brought Barbie home and when he left the apartment with Sosa. I have to do it so that he can let me go.

How wrong he was! How wrong we both were! All this time, I was the one who wasn't good enough for him. I can't be who he wants me to be. He deserves someone who isn't afraid to love him back. Someone who isn't afraid to trust him. Someone who is not afraid to dive in headfirst, even if she doesn't know how deep the water is.

I wipe my eyes dry and look him squarely in his ice-blue eyes, and when I speak my voice is strong again.

"I'm sorry. I have to go."