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I could have chuckled if emotion wasn’t clotting off airflow.
“And you think me asking Savannah on a date would make me happy?”
“Yeah. And I think it might make me happy, too.” Her voice dipped in vulnerability.
“You know Savannah is only living here temporarily. Time River isn’t her permanent home.” Fuck, did that ever taste sour on my tongue. Wrong.
A frown marred my daughter’s brow. “That’s what would really make me sad, Dad.”
My heart sank.
It would make me fucking sad, too. Truth was, I thought it might destroy me.
“I know, Livvie. But there are a bunch of things that make this situation complicated.” I phrased it carefully, hoping to answer some of her questions without giving her the sordid details.
“Life is complicated, Dad, but we have to do the things that make us happy.”
Affection rolled, so thick it pressed hard at my chest. I moved to her and whispered my lips against her temple. “When did my little girl get so smart?”
She rolled her eyes, once again acting like she was going on thirteen and not seven. “Newsflash, Dad. I’ve always been smart. My whole report card was straight A’s, and I won the spelling bee for my whole grade, remember?”
I held the chuckle. “Right, I do remember. That’s my Livvie, smart as a whip.”
She peered up at me. “Then you agree with me?”
“And what exactly am I agreeing to?”
She huffed like I was hopeless. “That you have to ask Miss Savannah on a date and show her that she really needs to stay here with us forever.”
“Livvie…” It was close to a warning.
“Dad, you gotta take the chance or you’re going to regret it.”
It was right then, with my daughter peering up at me with this look on her face—one of faith and hope and belief—that made this feeling swell. So stark and profound there was no shaking it.
She was right.
I’d regret it if I didn’t take the chance.
“Then I guess I’d better ask her, hadn’t I?”
“Yes!” she squealed. “See, I knew my dad was smart, too.”
She hopped off the stool and blazed a trail to her room. A second later, she was back with her case of markers, stickers, and paper. She climbed onto a stool at the island and spread them out in front of her, dinner completely forgotten.
“What are you doing, Olivia?” Amusement rumbled through the question.
She looked up, brown eyes wide. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m making an invitation. Sheesh, Dad, you’re really clueless at this romance thing. But don’t worry, I’ll help you.”
Five minutes hadn’t passed before she was standing in front of the doors that led to the backyard, her sweet little face gleaming when she said, “Let’s go.”
FORTY-ONE
SAVANNAH
A clattering of little fists banged at the glass.
My spirit tumbled in my chest, pulsing so fiercely in affection that my lungs ached. It wasn’t the first time the kids had come pounding at the door this week. The problem was, each time my reaction to it grew stronger.
The anticipation.
The excitement.
The shock of joy I felt when I’d look down to see their sweet, smiling faces when they’d asked me to come out and watch them play. It had been such a contrast to the way I’d felt all week as I’d searched the town for my sister, randomly driving streets, sitting parked outside the town square where the government buildings were, growing more desperate each day that passed, both feeling like I’d run straight into a dead end and had been led to paradise. Not to mention the way I’d felt when Olivia had shown up with another invitation—this one asking me to go to her spelling bee. As if I’d be the monster to break that little girl’s heart.
No freaking way.
That feeling that I had to be there no matter what was probably what should have proven that I needed to stay away. The truth that the only thing I wanted to do was be close to them.
To the kids.
To their father.
If he knew the number of times I’d looked out my window toward their house this week, praying to find him sneaking out and coming to me, I’d be accused of borderline obsession.
I set the rice bowl I’d been eating onto the counter and slipped off the stool, and I padded on bare feet across the wood floors to the door. The sun hung at the horizon line, right above the trees. Pink-spun rays sheared through the branches and leaves, spreading out to warm the small porch in the last whisper of daylight.
It lit the three children in the softest glow, their near-white hair glinting like strands of silver. Their eagerness was palpable as they jumped at the other side of the door.
Affection panged my heart into a rapid, erratic beat.
Turning the lock, I pulled it open, and their voices were no longer muted as they shouted, “Miss Savannah, Miss Savannah!”
