My heart is still pounding from his words in the office, but I keep my expression serene, as if I’m a wanted part of this family. I guess I’m smiling, the feeling not unlike sculpting stone with my hands. The photographer issues us directions I can’t hear past the roar in my head, and Dash laughs, pulling me closer. As if nothing happened. It didn’t, to him. He probably barely remembers it. But to me, it’s everything.
Your dads a narcassist and a nepo baby.
