Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Berk
I glance to where Stevie is sitting on one of the oversized white couches in our living room. They weren’t my first choice, but Layna had a vision. Since her death, I’ve added pops of color and a mountain of multi-colored throw pillows. Those are courtesy of my daughter.
We stopped by a vendor’s booth at a market in Brooklyn one Saturday afternoon a year ago.
I told Stevie she could pick out one handmade pillow for her bed. An hour later, we were in an Uber headed back to Manhattan with ten pillows piled in the back of it.
They have added personality and a soft place for my daughter’s head to land on. That’s the position she’s in now. She’s on her back, with her left foot propped on her right knee and a book in her hands.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
That lures her attention to me. “I’m fine, Daddy. I told you it was a hop, skip, and little jump down the stairs.”
That’s not how Sinclair framed it when she called me last night in a panic.
She told me that Stevie had tumbled down the stairs after she’d tucked her into bed.
Stevie was prolonging the inevitable by searching for a glass of water, even though she has a water bottle next to her bed every night.
Sinclair was in the kitchen tidying up from the bedtime snack she’d made Stevie when she heard the fall.
“The doctor said it’s all good,” she reminds me of our late night visit to the urgent care clinic. “I think she also said a pizza for dinner would make it even better.”
She said nothing of the sort, but who am I to argue with that logic?
“You’re having dinner at nine,” she goes on. “At Axel Tribeca, right?”
I didn’t realize that I had an audience when I called Wild Lilac from my bedroom to place the floral order for Astrid.
I bite back a smile. “You were eavesdropping.”
“Eavesdropping,” Stevie repeats. “Is that a fancy way to say I was spying?”
“Pretty much.” I close the manuscript I’ve been reading.
I chose to work from home today since Stevie doesn’t have school. It’s a teacher development day, so we decided to tackle her homework first before we both found a spot in the living room.
Stevie dropped onto the couch, and I sat in a chair opposite her.
“I didn’t hear who you were sending flowers to.”
I’m surprised since I gave the shop’s owner those details after explaining what I wanted written on the card.
“You didn’t?” I ask with skepticism edging my tone.
She shakes her head. “You were busy, so I might have snuck a piece of licorice from the drawer in your home office. Maybe I took two.”
I huff out a laugh. “Maybe three?”
She rolls onto her stomach. “Maybe.”
“Why don’t we head over to your aunt and uncle’s house before dinner? I’ll order pizza for everyone, and you can play with Weber before he goes to sleep.”
Her nose scrunches as she thinks that over. “I still need to pack my overnight bag.”
Sleepovers at Keats and Maren’s townhouse are one of Stevie’s favorite things, and since tomorrow is Saturday, there is no rush for me to swing by to pick her up.
I intend to use that to my advantage as I plan on savoring every second I can steal with Astrid.
Stevie slams the book in her hands shut, giving me a clear view of the cover and the leather strap with the lock attached to it.
She tugs on the gold chain around her neck. It now holds the dolphin pendant and the small key to the diary.
I watch as she locks it.
“Did you write about Dallas in there today?”
Her head snaps up. “What?”
“Dallas,” I draw his name out. “Did you write about him in your diary today?”
“I can’t tell you that.” Her eyes widen. “Everything in here is a secret that I carry in my heart, Dad.”
Just as I’m about to tell her that I understand, my phone chimes signaling an incoming text message.
I scoop it up from where I dropped it on the coffee table.
A grin ghosts my mouth as I read the simple text that just arrived.
Unknown: Thank you for the flowers. See you tonight.
I add the number to my contact list with Astrid’s name.
“You have a secret in your heart too,” Stevie whispers.
I look up to find a smile on her face. “Why would you say that?”
She motions toward my phone. “Whoever sent you that text is special. I don’t know if it’s work or the person you sent the flowers to, but you like whatever they said to you. It made your heart happy.”
I wouldn’t go that far, but I am looking forward to tonight. I lean forward to rest my forearms on my thighs. “You make my heart happy.”
“Pizza makes my heart happy.” She giggles. “Will you order extra so I can have it for breakfast tomorrow? Keats loves that too.”
“Absolutely. I’d do anything for you.”