Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
Berk
I step out onto my stoop with Astrid’s guitar case in my hand and her by my side.
She glances at me. “Did I walk into the room too soon? I got nervous waiting in the kitchen, and I wasn’t sure if I should sneak out the window.”
I laugh. “You walked in at the perfect time.”
She stops as we near the steps that lead down to the sidewalk in front of my home. “Your daughter seems amazing, Berk.”
“She is.”
“Are you all right with me teaching her a few things on the guitar?” Her gaze drops to her guitar case.
I inch her chin back up with my fingertip, so our eyes meet. “That was an incredibly generous offer, Astrid.”
“But…” she draws the word out.
I search her face for a clue about how she’s feeling.
She must have been overwhelmed just now. I doubt like hell that she expected to come face-to-face with Stevie today.
“There isn’t a but,” I stress. “I want to know how you’re feeling about what just happened.”
The corners of her lips inch up toward a smile. “Relieved.”
“Relieved?” I perk a brow. “Why?”
“I’ve never met the daughter of a man I’m….” She laughs. “I’ve never been with a man who had a child, so I didn’t know what to expect. I wasn’t sure how Stevie would react to me.”
I take her hand and give it a slight squeeze. “Stevie welcomes the world with open arms.”
Even though it’s true, I had some concerns about how my daughter would take the news that I’m interested in someone.
I believe Stevie sensed that there’s something going on between Astrid and me, although maybe she was too preoccupied with her future guitar lessons to fully absorb what’s happening.
“I need to run to open my store.” Astrid reaches for her guitar case.
I hand it to her, catching sight of the time on my watch. “You’ve got fifteen minutes. Do you want me to call a car for you?”
She shakes her head. “I’ll take the subway. I won’t fire myself if I’m a few minutes late.”
Reaching for her shoulders, I huff out a laugh. “I’ll call you.”
“I’ll answer,” she bounces back. “Thank you again for last night, Berk.”
I should be the one thanking her for last night and every moment since I first saw her playing her guitar in the subway station.
“Time to run.” She plants a kiss on my cheek. “Bye, Berk.”
Before she can sprint away, I curve my hand around the side of her neck and tilt her head to the left just a touch before I kiss her goodbye in a way that leaves us both breathless.
“I’m sorry, Berk.” Keats scrubs a hand over his forehead as I walk back into my home.
The look on his face can only be described as panicked amusement.
“For what?” I tease him while I glance around in search of my daughter.
“She’s upstairs,” he whispers. “You know for what. I had no fucking idea that Astrid would be here.”
Hearing him say her name so effortlessly sounds damn good. It also felt good to watch them interact after introducing them right before Astrid left.
They shook hands, and Keats asked about her store.
Her face lit up as she offered him an invitation to stop by. He told her he would make a point of bringing Maren and Weber there soon.
I pat my brother’s shoulder. “It’s fine.”
His green-eyed gaze scans my face. “Is it serious?”
Answering that isn’t easy. It’s new, but in some ways, my blossoming relationship with Astrid feels serious. It feels important in a way I can’t describe, so I don’t try.
“We agreed to only see each other,” I explain.
A smile coasts over his lips. “Holy shit, you’re going steady.”
Huffing out a laugh, I take a step back. “I suppose I am.”
Without any warning, Keats pulls me in for a bear hug. “I’m so damn happy right now. She’s good for you, Berk. She’s so damn good for you.”
“You owe two hundred dollars to our fund,” Stevie says from behind us. “You said the same bad word twice just now, Keats.”
We both turn to face her.
“I’ll pay,” Keats tells her. “What’s with the sneaking around? I didn’t hear you come down the stairs.”
Stevie points at the pink bunny slippers on her feet. “These are my stealth slippers. That’s what it said on the reviews online.”
No wonder she was so insistent on that particular style and brand of slippers.
“Daddy?” She steps toward me. “I think Astrid is good for us too.”
Us.
That one word is enough to lodge a lump of emotion in my throat.
I can’t let my daughter get attached to a woman this quickly, but I can pace this, so I protect her until I know exactly where things are headed between Astrid and me.
I drop to one knee and hold out my arms, coaxing her closer. She takes the hint and rushes to me.
“Astrid is a new friend,” I tell her softly. “We’re just getting to know each other.”
Her little hands leap to my cheeks. “I understand, Dad.”
I look into her eyes. “Good. What do you want to do today?”
Her fingers skim over the diary key hung on the delicate chain around her neck. “I need to write something in my diary. Then we should go buy Keats some new socks.”
“Hey, now.” My brother laughs. “I have socks.”
Stevie tosses him a look before her gaze settles back on me. “We should go buy Keats some nice socks. He’s a professional, Dad. He needs to look the part from the top of his head to his tiptoes.”
I laugh in unison with my brother. “Sock shopping it is. Then we’ll cook dinner for Keats, Auntie Maren, and Weber. Deal?”
She wraps her arms around my neck. “Done deal.”