Tokyo Ever After: A Novel (Tokyo Ever After #1)(56)

Mariko notes my mood and keeps quiet. Smart woman. We arrive at the palace, Akio opens the car but I stall, smoothing my navy dress and fiddling with the hem of my skirt. I take long enough that my father comes searching for me. He stands on the porch and waits.

“He’ll like your gift,” Mariko says.

“Yeah,” I say, reminding myself that my world doesn’t stop or start with my father’s approval.

“So … I’m getting out of the car now. Okay?” Mariko says slowly. “Remember, we have a dress fitting for the emperor’s birthday. Eleven o’clock sharp.” She’s out, bowing to my father as she passes him.

I count to five and climb out after her. Scroll in one hand, I half raise my other hand in greeting. “Hi.” Akio is behind me. His little poem is stuffed into my dress pocket, a reminder that is here with me, always.

“Izumi. Hi,” my father says back. We stare at each other in much the same fashion as our first meeting.

“How was your trip?” I ask, walking toward him. The car door slams shut. I don’t have to look to know Akio isn’t there anymore. Feet shuffle, luggage is unloaded, and the imperial vehicle departs.

“Good,” he says. “How was your trip?”

“Good,” I say, squinting against the bright morning sunlight.

“What’s that?” He motions to the scroll.

“Oh.” My hand tightens a bit around the scroll. “Um. It’s actually a present for you.”

“You brought me back a gift?” He blinks at me.

“Well, yeah. It’s not a big deal. Just something I made.” I remember the antique chaise in the family room from the French ambassador. The Patek Philippe watch on his wrist from the emperor. The stall of half a dozen Arabian horses from the Sultan of Brunei.

He rocks back on his heels, expression considerably warming. “I have a present for you, too.”

“For me?” I ask.

He hums. “It’s in my office. What do you say we go inside?”

A butler opens the door. The smell of the East Palace is familiar—light and fresh, with a touch of citrus. It’s nice to be back. My father’s office is the same, save for a new addition. I gaze at the orchid sitting on his windowsill. It’s wrapped in bamboo and tied with a purple tassel. Its yellow and green leaves are long and narrow, striped like a tiger’s tail. The blooms are tiny, white, and fragrant.

“Fūkiran,” my father says. “Grown since the Edo Period and collected by feudal lords as gifts to the shogun or emperor.” He slides the office doors closed.

“I know.” I smile because it’s familiar. My mother has a woodblock of it above her nightstand. Neofinetia falcata. “It’s Mom’s favorite.”

“Yes.” My head shoots up. My father’s smile is a bit shy, guarded. “I grow them for her.”

I play it cool, scroll in my hand forgotten. “Do you?” I knew it. I KNEW IT.

He steps forward and fingers the tassel. “You knew the moment you saw the greenhouse.” He shrugs, and his face grows contemplative. “I guess I thought I could keep a part of her. It worked for a while. The memories were enough. But having you here it makes me think it might not be. I don’t have to keep that part of myself separate. That’s why I had the gardener place an orchid in here. I’d like to be the man I once was and the man I am now. Do you think that’s possible? Fuse the two together?”

My throat feels dry. “I think anything is possible.”

He nods, frowns at the floor. “I’m glad you’re back. I don’t like how we left things. About the wedding, my reaction … I’m sorry. I was angry—”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it.” No need to relive the embarrassment, how I risked a tabloid scandal, how I humiliated him. I want him to be proud of me, this person he made. Show him I can do it: be a princess, a part of Japan, and his daughter.

“You do?” Relief floods his features.

I make a noise of agreement. “At first, I thought Kyoto was a punishment.”

“What? No—”

“But then, I viewed it as an opportunity. You were right,” I add brightly. “It’s like the time I swallowed a magnet when I was four and mom took me to the emergency room. I cried and cried because she was mad and I was in trouble. But the doctor taught me all sorts of stuff about north and south poles. I ended up actually learning a lot that day. Kyoto was kind of the same. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense.” He grins. “I do apologize. To be clear, Kyoto was not a punishment. I love it there. It’s one of my favorite places. I genuinely thought you would enjoy it.”

I’m suddenly touched. “It’s really okay,” I say. “Let’s just move on.”

“I’d like that,” he says. As far as I’m concerned, the slate is wiped clean. Everything is fine. And it will stay fine as long as I don’t mess up again.

My father opens his hands. “So … gifts? Should we exchange them?”

I gulp. Stare down at the scroll. “Sure.”

We settle into our respective seats: him behind the desk, me across in an upholstered chair. I cross my legs at the ankles and hand over the scroll. “Like I said, it’s nothing big. I’ve just been practicing my kanji.” He handles it like a piece of glass, carefully unfurling it to reveal his name. “You don’t have to do anything with it…”