Chapter 50
CHAPTER FIFTY
Berk
“She’s here!” Stevie screams as soon as Astrid walks into the diner.
I huff out a laugh. Every other person sitting in this diner does the same thing.
Stevie springs to her feet and sets off toward Astrid.
I watch as they fall into an embrace.
I could get used to the sight of that.
As they near me holding hands, I push up to stand.
“You can kiss her hello, Dad,” Stevie says as she brushes past me on her way back to her chair. “I know you kiss each other.”
I smile. “I’ll do that.”
I give Astrid a soft kiss as I stare into her eyes.
I’m looking for a clue about the phone meeting with the record company executive, but her expression isn’t giving anything away.
“Have you been here before?” Stevie asks as she touches the edge of the menu in front of her.
When we were seated, I told her we would wait to order. She agreed, but she wanted to see a menu to plan out her meal.
I was surprised given the fact that she always orders a plain burger and fries whenever we come here.
“I haven’t,” Astrid says, taking a seat in the vacant chair. “What’s good on the menu?”
“If I were you, I’d order a plain burger with fries,” Stevie suggests. “That way, you can add all the ketchup you want.”
She taps a finger against the plastic ketchup bottle in the middle of the table.
Astrid offers her a quick nod. “I think that sounds like a perfect lunch to me.”
I reach for Astrid’s leg under the table. I give her thigh a slight squeeze drawing her gaze to me. “Were you able to talk to the record executive this morning?”
She nods. “Yes.”
I was looking forward to hearing all about it and hopefully toasting to her future success over a few glasses of ice water, but I sense she’s not in the mood to discuss it at the moment.
As Stevie flips the menu over to read the list of desserts that she’s well acquainted with, Astrid leans closer to me.
“Can we talk about it later?” she whispers. “Maybe when we’re…”
“Oh, I remember the cherry pie they have here.” Stevie giggles. “It tastes like it has lemonade in it.”
I glance at Astrid. That has to remind her of her mom.
If it does, she’s not showing it.
She smiles at my daughter. “We’re going to need to split a piece of that.”
“I agree.” Stevie grins. “I’ll order one piece with enough whipped cream on top for both of us.”
We exit the diner with the mid-day sun bathing us in warmth.
Stevie closes her eyes immediately as she tilts her face up. “I love sunshine.”
“Me too,” Astrid whispers as she stares at my daughter. “It makes the day so much better.”
Stevie cracks open one eyelid to look at Astrid. “I think so too, but I do like the rain. Sometimes my dad and I walk in puddles on purpose.”
Astrid laughs. “That makes a lot of sense.”
I chuckle. “Are you referring to the night you played at the bar?”
“You ran into the rain.” She points a finger at me. “You didn’t care about your suit.”
“Suits can be replaced,” Stevie says. “Moments can’t be.”
Astrid’s eyes widen. “That’s very wise, Stevie.”
“My dad taught me that.” She glances at my face. “He’s a pretty smart guy.”
“Thank you.” I tilt my chin down to look into my daughter’s eyes. “How would you feel about meeting your Auntie Sinclair for an adventure this afternoon? It’ll be just the two of you.”
I look at Astrid. She seems just as stunned as Stevie by the idea.
During lunch, I sent a text message to my sister asking if she could spare a few hours for Stevie.
She told me that she was headed down to The Metropolitan Museum of Art to check out a new exhibit that Brighton Beck has been raving about.
It seems that her time spent working with the artist is rekindling her love for painting.
“Do you and Astrid need alone time?” Stevie asks. “Time for holding hands and kissing?”
“Something like that.” I smile. “Sinclair is going to take you to The Met.”
“The Met?” Stevie glances down at the navy blue dress and white shoes she’s wearing. “Thank goodness I dressed up for lunch. A girl has to look her best for a Sunday afternoon at The Met.”
“So we should head that direction now?” I ask my daughter.
She grabs my wrist to look at my watch. “We better. You know how much Auntie Sinclair loves The Met. We’ll probably be there until they close.”