Chapter 53
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Berk
“Dad?”
The person attached to that sweet voice has been the only thing that has gotten me through the past twelve days.
I’ve been wandering through my life feeling as though I’m an imposter.
The vibrant, loving father Stevie deserves has been replaced with a man facing a depth of sorrow he hasn’t before.
I struggled immensely after Layna’s death, but this is different.
Astrid had taken ownership of a piece of my heart that will never be available to another human being.
I already know that.
My love for my wife was grounded in our commitment to raise the daughter we created.
What I feel for Astrid is much different. She lit a fire inside of me. She taught me that two people could connect on a level that I never knew existed.
I miss her.
Jesus, do I miss her.
I’ve avoided the subway stop where I first saw her. In a weak moment, I passed by her store a few days ago, but I didn’t see Astrid or Eloise when I glanced inside. I saw Castle behind the checkout counter.
I don’t know if that means that Astrid was in the backroom or if she’s already left New York for Los Angeles.
Either way, her life is moving forward.
I won’t stand in the path of her future, and I can’t ask my daughter to upend her life to follow me while I chase the woman I love around the country.
Layna witnessed the close relationships my siblings have with my daughter.
Shortly before she died, she made me promise her that I’d do everything in my power to continue nurturing those bonds.
She wanted Stevie to grow up surrounded by the love of my family in the home that Layna and I had created for her.
I turn to see Stevie enter the kitchen. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” she tosses the greeting back to me with her own twist on it. “I think I should change my name to Stevie.”
Perplexed, I huff out a chuckle. “Your name is Stevie.”
That pulls a laugh out of her. “I think it should be just Stevie. One name only. I could drop the Morgan and just be Stevie.”
That should hurt, but I know exactly where this is coming from.
Stevie has ditched her obsession with dolphins and whales. She’s fixated on painting after her visit to The Met with Sinclair over a week ago.
There was an exhibit by an artist who goes by the name of Arrow.
Since then, my daughter has decided that she wants to be just like Arrow.
“I like Stevie Morgan,” I say while pouring cereal into a bowl. “Why don’t you stick with the name for a few more years?”
She waves a hand at me as I start for the refrigerator to grab the milk. “I’ll eat it dry today. Can I get a glass of apple juice on the side?”
“Of course.”
“Can we talk about Astrid?”
That stops me in place. I glance at the floor. “We talked about Astrid, sweetheart.”
“No,” she says. “You talked about her. You told me she was going to record her songs in California. You said she was going on tour.”
I did say that, and it broke my daughter’s heart. She wants more guitar lessons, lunches at Crispy Biscuit, and more time with Astrid.
I reach for a glass before pulling a carton of apple juice from the fridge. “That’s right, Stevie.”
She waits to respond until I’m in front of her with the glass of juice. “I want to talk to you about her. I want to say what I feel inside.”
I steal a quick glance at the clock on the microwave. I hate denying my daughter the opportunity to share her feelings, but we have fifteen minutes before we need to leave for school.
“Can we talk about it tonight?”
Taking a sip of juice, she nods. “Book us a table at Axel Tribeca.”
I smile. “You don’t think we can discuss this at home?”
“Nope,” she punctuates that curt answer with a brisk shake of her head.
“I’m not sure I can reserve a table on that short of notice,” I say quietly. “Maybe we can compromise, and I’ll order in from there.”
“I like that idea, Dad.”
I tap my palm on the counter. “Finish up so I can get you to school on time.”
She tosses a piece of O-shaped cereal into her mouth. “I’m going to take this to my room. I have to write one thing in my diary before we go.”
“About Dallas?” I ask.
“Dallas?” she laughs. “He’s my past. I write about Brax in my diary now.”
“Brax?”
“Don’t ask any questions about him.” She tugs on the diary key strung on the chain around her neck. “Only my diary knows how I feel about him.”
“I got a call from you last night,” Mrs. Hosek says as soon as I arrive at my office after dropping Stevie off at school.
“I didn’t call you,” I point out.
“Someone who shall remain nameless called me from your phone when you were in the shower.”
I huff out a laugh. “Was that someone supposed to be in bed?”
“That would be my guess.” She glances at her desk. “I swore to her that I wouldn’t tell you about the call, but I need to say something to you, Berk.”
I dive a hand into the front pocket of my pants. “Shoot.”
“Your daughter understands a lot more than you think she does.”
I agree with a nod.
“The woman who was teaching Stevie guitar lessons is the same woman you went to see the night I stayed over.” She pushes her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’m right about that, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“You’re in love with her.”
I haven’t admitted that to anyone, but I see no reason to hide the fact anymore. “I am, but…”
“But she’s gone out west to make a record.” Mrs. Hosek clucks her tongue. “Stevie told me. She also told me that she misses Astrid.”
“I do too.”
“Did she end the relationship to take the record deal?” she questions. “Or did something else happen?”
Mrs. Hosek doesn’t know everything about my past.
To her, I’m a former student who built a career that he’s passionate about. She views me as a devoted single father who was widowed much too young.
She sees bits and pieces of the man that I am.
“It ended,” I say succinctly. “The small details are irrelevant.”
“They aren’t to Stevie,” she points out. “She called me to ask if I had any ideas for a romantic way to get you two back together. She thinks since I’m writing a romance novel, I’m an expert on that.”
I smile. “You are, aren’t you?”
She laughs. “I’m not. I am a concerned friend who hopes you’ll think about what’s best for you, Berk. You deserve a second chance at happiness. Don’t let it slip away.”
It’s already gone.
I used my time on the subway this morning to look at Keyline Music Group’s social media. They’re set to announce the signing of a “major, new breakout star,” bright and early on Monday morning.
If Astrid isn’t already in L.A. for that, she’s on her way.
“It’s time to get to work,” I say, hopeful that Mrs. Hosek will switch her focus to the calls I need her to make.
“All right.” She sighs. “You do realize that it’s Friday, and I’m not scheduled to work, right? I’m here because the party that my neighbors started last night hasn’t ended.”
I fish in my pants pocket and pull out my keys. “Go to my house and take the day to write.”
She reaches forward to snatch the keys into her palm. “I’ll do that until noon. After that, I’m treating myself to a spa day.”
“Good for you.”
She pushes to stand. “Remember what I said. Love doesn’t come around often. Maybe you need to consider whether you should let it slip away.”