Page 67 of Manhattan Kiss

Little click-clacks fill the air, like high heels on hard floors.

Deacon chuckles. “She’s ready for you.”

I turn and Willow’s in the hallway, complete with a tiara, a Sleeping Beauty dress, and little-girl heels.

“I’m Aurora,” she says. “What’s your name?”

“Your name’s Aurora?” I ask, shocked. “That’s such a coincidence, because that’s my name too.”

“Some people call me Sleeping Beauty,” she says. “But I prefer Aurora. It’s pretty.”

“You’re pretty,” I reply. “And your dad tells me you’re pretty smart too.”

“You’re British,” she says, squinting at me.

“You’re right.” I smile at her. She’s inquisitive and doesn’t fully trust me, and I kinda like that about her. She should be suspicious.

“Do you live in…” She glances at her dad.

“England,” he supplements for her.

“England?” she asks, turning her attention back at me.

“Usually,” I say. “But I’m living in New York for a few months.”

“Let’s go into the kitchen,” Deacon says, interrupting his daughter’s interrogation of me and placing his hand on my back to guide me.

Willow glides into the back of the house, her tiara leading the way.

“I have presents,” I say, handing him a gift bag.

Willow is craning her neck to see what I just handed to her dad.

“For you too,” I say, as we enter the kitchen. I hand her a bigger bag that has glittery unicorns all over it.

“Thank you,” she says, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Then I cringe. Maybe I should have asked Deacon first. I know some parents are really strict about gift giving. “Is that okay?” I mouth at him.

“Absolutely not,” Deacon booms. “No presents allowed in this house. We run a tight ship.”

I think he’s joking. I turn to Willow to see if she’s upset. She just rolls her eyes, and I laugh. I wonder how many people roll their eyes at Deacon. I imagine not many would dare. But this Deacon’s different to the Deacon people at the hotel refer to as Mr. Room 325. He’s soft. And a little silly. I’ve never seen him look so comfortable.

It’s strange seeing him like this—as a dad. I suppose I got to know him as the grumpy, hot guest. But I’ve learned that’s only a small part of him. And now? Here? I’m seeing more of him. Much more of him. He feels complete in my eyes now. Now he’s a father.

Sadness tugs at me. Will I be incomplete if I can’t ever be a mother?

Would a man like Deacon ever want to be with a woman long term if she couldn’t have children? He’s so comfortable in his role as father, I can’t imagine him willingly giving up the opportunity to have more children.

I guess I don’t need to think about that kind of thing. I’ll be back in the UK, an ocean away, in just a few weeks.

“You didn’t say thank you,” Willow says to her dad. “Manners matter.”

Deacon turns to me. “You’re right. Thank you.” His tone is earnest. “But you really shouldn’t have.”

“It’s only small,” I say. I managed to pop out on my lunch hour and grab a couple of things.

“No one ever gives me gifts,” he says. “It’s nice.”