Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
preston
The ceiling dares me to vacate my bed and face the day. And although I hate to admit it, there was some logic buried under the stationery explosion Mia unleashed on me last night.
I’ve been working out nonstop just to stay sane, getting those serotonin and oxytocin levels up the old-fashioned way.
I’m well aware I need a structured routine with Lily if I want to go back to work.
Having quality time with her while going back to being the Dr. Preston everyone is waiting for is the only way forward.
Ha. The nanny turned out to be an impressive PA. But she sure came in like a wrecking ball.
And if I’m going to live up to the challenge, I’m starting with the hardest part, the one that matters the most.
I head for Lily’s room, planning to wake her up myself, but their voices drift up from the kitchen and pull me off course. I follow the sound down the stairs.
“You’re up early, Lily.” She’s bright-eyed and buzzing at 7 a.m., pouring herself some orange juice with Mia’s help.
“Hi, Dad. Come, we’re making breakfast.”
“Good morning, Miss Thorne.”
“No proper tea in this house, and you’re Miss Thorn-ing me again. There will be no ‘good morning’ for you, sir.”
I pull one of my credit cards from my wallet, the black one, because apparently, I’m measuring dicks with myself now.
“Take this.” I slide it across the counter.
“Do some shopping. Fill the cupboards with whatever will make you happy.” I don’t know when she became someone I trust to restock my house, but here we are.
“Choooocolate.” She brings her face close to Lily, and my kid breaks into a fit of giggles. God, how I love that sound. I wish I hadn’t caught the reference, but I was force-fed Frozen too many times to miss it.
“Search a British shop. Find the food of your people. There’s only room for one grump in this house, and that throne has long been claimed.”
“A company card? Nice.”
“Hate to disappoint, but this one is not limitless like Liam’s.”
“Sir, I see where you live, what you drive, don’t cry poor to me,” she says, putting the card into her back pocket, then doing that money rubbing thing, running one open palm over the other like she’s warming up to throw some serious cash around. My cash.
“Sunshine, while Mia is shopping, I thought the two of us could go out for breakfast.”
“But Dad, Mia will want to come too. She’ll go hungry.”
Mia and I exchange a look, and I swear she can read my pain and intentions for this morning.
“Actually, Lils. I already ate, so I was just going to cook for you two. Go with Dad, I’ll go tea shopping, and I promise I’ll have something super British for you when you come back, okay?”
“What is it?”
“It’s a—oh, you almost fooled me! No way, Missy. It’s a surprise.”
Mia laughs and tickles Lily. My kitchen changes its key, and something kicks in my chest. Is that my heart beating again?
* * *
I choose a café we’ve never been to before, afraid to taint a favorite place of hers.
“Lil, I’m really sorry I took this long to sit down with you, but this… isn’t easy for me either.” She’s giving me her full attention while inhaling the strawberry milkshake I allowed instead of the standard fresh juice for breakfast. This morning will be bitter enough. “It’s about your mom.”
She’s still listening, but now her gaze falls to the paper placemats they set for her. The ones for coloring. The pot of crayons sits untouched between us.
“Dad, I know she’s not on vacation.”
Jesus, fuck. This sounds like when you tell your kid the dog went for an endless vacation on a farm. Did I let my daughter think her mother was dead?
“Sweetheart, she’s…”
“Gone.”
I’m the worst father who ever wandered this Earth. How do I make this go from irreparable to just a little less awful?
“Callie told me,” she adds quietly. My pulse spikes, hot and ugly. Well, someone’s going to be dead by the end of the day.
“I asked her one night ’cause I knew something was wrong,” she goes on, pushing a slice of banana around her plate with her fork. “I knew Mommy wasn’t away like you said.”
My stomach churns, while I try to breathe evenly. Lily asked me, but I didn’t answer, so she turned to Callie.
Anger isn’t the point right now—Lily is.
“She sat with me on the couch and told me that… sometimes moms don’t stay… sometimes they get lost.” Her posture softens, eyes still fixed on her plate. “Not ’cause they don’t love you, but ’cause they forget how to be the mom they used to be.”
Lily picks at the banana again, then adds, almost in a whisper, “She said Mommy’s just…
being someone else now.” Her words wobble at the edges.
“And maybe she won’t come back.” There’s a long pause.
My chest is splintering, but I let her have all the time she needs.
I don’t think she’s finished. “Callie promised me it wasn’t my fault.
” Her voice lifts just a little, steadier.
“And she hugged me really tight and said I could ask her anything whenever I feel weird or sad.”
Fuck me, Callie’s done it again. That woman has more lives than a cat, and I couldn’t love my friend any more if I tried. I’ll still tell Calista to give me a heads up next time. But she caught my daughter when I dropped the ball.
I couldn’t have put it any better. Blake decided to be someone new, and that didn’t include me or Lily.
When she finally glances up at me, I see a tiny flicker of a smile peeking through.
“And I did feel better. For a bit.” She shifts in her seat—half coy, half entirely too grown-up for her age.
“Callie’s given me so many plushies since…
I don’t wanna be rude, but there’s no more room for them in my room, Dad. That net is going to break.”
“I’ll talk to her. Or build you more shelves. Whatever you want.”
“Is it okay if I don’t want to talk about it with you?” She can’t hold my gaze, and it kills me.
“It is. But I need to know if you don’t want to talk about it at all, or just not with me. There’s no wrong answers, Lil.”
“Hmmmm.” She taps the middle of her forehead, the way she always does when she wants to show she’s thinking hard. “Both. But mostly with you. I see how sad you get when someone talks about her.”
My hand tightens around the mug. Of course she noticed. She always does.
Sometimes I swear she’s got a seventy-year-old wise monk living inside her.
“Okay, but I think talking about your feelings is important.” There are blinking lights pointing at me with the word hypocrite.
So bright, they warm my skin to the point that I might break a sweat.
“So, I’m going to book someone you can talk to about anything you’re feeling, thinking…
someone really cool, who’s a great listener. They’re called psychologists.”
Lily looks curious and open enough to the idea. I know exactly where I got her. That chatterbox daughter of mine is always keen to have someone listen to her.
“You know what, Lil? I’m going to find myself one of those, too,” I say, lying through my teeth, but hoping to encourage her. Lead by example, and all that. Also, it’s part of Mia’s wacko plan, too.
The lie is in the tense.
I’ve been seeing my psychologist for the past month.