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I passed the gallery of photos on the wall of the hallway that spanned the entire length of the upstairs. So many of them were of Victoria and my father that it felt forced, as if Victoria wanted to prove Novak was in love with her, that they were as connected as all the other couples in our group. In some of the photos, they were so young. My father had been with someone else before Victoria, as evidenced by my existence, but in our culture that was atypical. We paired off early—in our late teens or very early twenties—and stayed together for life. I was at that age now. Almost all of us kids were. Which made this Angus and Liv thing even more irritating.

The same photo always caught my attention, as if it wanted to remind me on a daily basis of the reality of my situation. It was one of the few of Victoria, my sister, and me. My sister sat to the side, one of her chubby four-year-old hands at ease on Victoria’s knee. I was almost six in the picture and I seemed to be sitting in Victoria’s lap. My face was blank. A young Victoria was looking down, her eyelashes demurely on her cheeks, a curtain of long hair casting a shadow on her face.

The picture was hung because it looked like we were a happy family, outside on the lawn, Liv and I with musical instruments in our little hands. What I actually remembered was the staging of the photo and Victoria’s hands under my armpits, aggressively trying to reposition me on the other side of her. For me there was never any touching her, let alone sitting in her lap. At some point I realized why my presence was hard for her. She had been left to raise Novak’s daughter by a rival, I presumed. But I must have been confused at that age, not understanding why she treated me differently from Liv. As much as I’d tried to be an easy guest in her home, Victoria never softened. At the time the photo was taken, we had been in Austin for five years. All of Liv’s life and all but the beginning of mine.

I headed down the floating staircase, the living room below looking sparse and grand at the same time—glass, cool stone, beautiful furniture of various luxurious textures. The living room had a retractable glass wall that opened onto a terrace, the first of three tiered levels of garden leading down to the lake. The basement housed the underground garage and basketball court. At the western part of the property, near the guesthouse, was a more contemporary-style glass-and-steel gym. Most spectacular was how the house itself had a wing that reached almost to the water and connected to a boat garage, making the boats as accessible as the cars.

I wound my way through the other spacious, hushed rooms painted in natural shades and decorated with orchids. I paused midstep when I registered his presence a few seconds before I saw him. When I entered the kitchen, there stood the king.

Once I made the joke that seeing my father was like spotting an elusive elk. It was rare and exciting and you never knew when it was going to happen. Liv didn’t get it, or at least she didn’t think it was funny.

Since we ran cooler as a whole, I knew the show of affection and exuberance now taking place was for the housekeeper’s benefit—a simulation of an everyday family’s interactions. Still, I wished I could take a picture. My youthful, handsome dad, in running clothes, bent down to greet Liv with a hug, their golden-brown heads resting together as he gave her a squeeze. He’d just come in from a run, and they were laughing about him getting her sweaty, their identical blue eyes showing genuine fondness for each other. Both of us were daddy’s girls.

I didn’t realize I’d stopped in my tracks to look at them until I felt someone else in the room watching me watch them. I caught Victoria’s eye. I dropped my gaze.

“Hey, doll!” Novak came over to me and wrapped his arms around me too, instantly making every worry disappear. I lived for the infrequent moments when he acted not just like a leader but like a dad.

Even though Novak had a slight build, he was wiry and strong. I didn’t even care that he was sweaty from his run. And of course he wouldn’t really think we’d mind. He was too used to being adored by all of us. He was the sun. For a second I lost myself in this uncommon hug. He pulled away first and began to loudly chug a green energy drink, the only thing he ever consumed. He raked a hand through his hair. The curls were cut short but still there. It was hard to believe he was my father when he looked like he was twenty-five.

I felt an imperceptible exchange between Victoria and Novak. Lydia, the latest in the line of short-term housekeepers, had left the kitchen, and you could feel a bit of the act fall away. I knew the calm that replaced it would look eerie to outsiders.

“Where’ve you been, Dad?” Liv asked. As a precaution, Liv continued to speak in a measured tone of voice instead of taking the easier route—speaking quickly and just above a whisper.

“Just working my ass off.”

I knew we were alone, but it was so unusual, I felt like looking behind me for the people who almost always surrounded Novak. There were always members from our group around him, even at home. And when he wasn’t home, they were here too. We were all related to one another and we instinctively preferred to be together, weaving in and out of each other’s homes as if living in mansions separated from one another was an unnatural lifestyle.

I glanced up at Victoria, who was hovering. There was the Victoria, Dad, and Liv family unit, and then there was the Dad, Liv, and me unit. The second was never given a chance to breathe. Victoria was annoyed I’d interrupted her time to enjoy her family. I knew it was my place to stay away at moments like these, and I would have if I had been paying attention.