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Wren glanced at the time. I’d checked The Hot House’s website after Handful gave me the lead; Blondie was on the bill Wednesday nights. She still had to feed Sparrow and get ready. I didn’t want to leave, but I wasn’t going to make her ask me to go.

“I should get out of your way.”

Sparrow protested when I moved, waving both arms and making a noise that nearly put me straight back in the chair. Wren took her from me and settled her against her chest.

“Thank you for letting me meet her,” I said.

“She’s your daughter, Seb.”

That nearly started me crying again.

“Friday afternoon?” Wren asked. “Here again.”

“I’ll be here.”

Robin was waiting by the water door. He looked at my face, glanced back toward the meeting room and stepped aside without a word.

I made it halfway down the pier before I pulled out my phone and opened the photographs Wren had sent me.

In the first, I was staring at the camera with Sparrow tucked against me. In the second, she had my shirt in her mouth. In the last, her fist was around my nose and I was laughing.

I walked back to the cottage with my phone in my hand, looking at the photograph of my daughter in my arms.

Chapter 11

❧

— Wren —

Simon picked me up at ten past seven. Sparrow was with Nick for the evening, my bag was packed, and I was ready to dance. But I still couldn’t stop thinking about what Seb had called her.

There you are. Daddy’s little Bug.

He hadn’t meant to say it. He’d been looking at Sparrow, smiling through his tears, and then he’d said it so quietly I almost missed it.

I’d wondered about that box for a year. Knowing he’d opened it should have made me glad. Instead, I kept seeing him with our daughter in his arms and remembering how badly I’d wanted to tell him about her myself.

I’d imagined handing him the box at home, before anybody else knew. He’d have whooped, peppered me with kisses and pulled me close. “We’re having a baby, sweetheart?” I’d have nodded, and he’d have said, “Good girl,” in that voice that always undid me. Then he’d have dropped to his knees, put his hands on my stomach and told our baby how much Daddy loved them and their mommy. How he couldn’t wait to meet them. Sooner or later he’d have laughed about Handful adding us to his pregnancy pool. I’d wanted that day with him so badly. Now he was meeting our daughter four months late.

“You all right?” Simon said, at the lights.

“Yeah.”

Simon dropped me at The Hot House door and waited until I was inside. Mavis was behind the bar, watching people come through the door. Wednesday had been her slow night before she put Blondie on the bill. Eleven weeks later, she was filling the place.

“Full again,” she said.

“You sound surprised.”

“I’m thinking I should’ve asked you to do more nights.”

“You’d better keep me happy, then.”

“Always, love.” She handed me a bottle of water. “Go get ready. They’re here for you.”

For eleven weeks I’d pushed Sparrow’s stroller past the BLONDIE poster outside The Hot House. People in Kettlewell knew who I was under the mask. They knew I was Robin’s sister and Sparrow’s mom. Nobody here judged me.

The dressing room at The Hot House was a converted store room with a rail, three mirrors, and a ceiling heater that ticked.