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I click my tongue, too happy to make words.
Then, behind her, another blond head pokes through the door.
“Clancy!” I yell, and Fiona comes running in front the back.
With tears in her eyes, Fiona wraps her arms around her stepdaughter and ushers her inside. “What—how?”
“Blake has a private jet,” Clancy explains. “We fly back tomorrow evening.”
Fiona squeals, then gives Blake a big bear hug as he comes to stand next to me. “I have to call Grant.”
Allie grins, and Blake slings an arm around my shoulders. “What are you having, Allie? Breakfast is on me.”
“Is Fallon cooking?” she asks. When I nod, she says, “Definitely eggs Benedict, then.”
Buzzing with happiness, I almost don’t notice the stranger walk into the café behind the girls. Heart’s Cove has a healthy churn of tourists, so it isn’t rare that someone I don’t recognize walks in, but something about this guy—and the way he scans the café like he’s looking for someone—twigs recognition at the back of my mind.
I hustle Clancy, Blake, and Allie to a table and glance once more at the man as he sits down at one of the unoccupied tables, watching the door. A few minutes later, when I’ve joined the girls and husband at their table, the man orders a black drip coffee and returns to his table to wait.
And twenty minutes later, when Mia and Bailey walk in, I realize who he is.
30
MIA
Maskingmy nerves as Bailey and I enter Four Cups is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but I know that Bailey will pick up on everything. She’s been unnaturally quiet all morning, more subdued than I’ve ever seen her. She must be as nervous as I am.
As we enter the café, Colin stands.
Bailey glances at me and asks, “Is that him?”
I nod. “Yeah. You ready?”
My daughter—nine years old, and apparently more courageous than her mother—squares her shoulders and meets Colin’s eyes from across the room. “Yeah,” she says, “I’m ready.”
Over the past couple of weeks, Colin and I have discussed boundaries. I’ve sent him a list of Bailey’s interests (basketball, space, turtles and/or tortoises) along with a few photos of her. It’s been a battle for me to even give him that much of her. The petty part of me wants to slam the door in his face and tell him to leave the two of us alone. He left, didn’t he? Why should he have any right to Bailey’s affection?
But he’s her father, and Bailey wanted to meet him. I owe it to her to be mature, to do what’s best for my daughter instead of what my petty, black heart prefers.
We stop on the other side of the table, and the two of them stare at each other. Colin’s throat works, and he forces himself to smile.
Bailey’s the first to speak. She sticks out her hand, businesslike. “I’m Bailey,” she says. “Nice to meet you, Colin.” Her chin is high, and despite the flush on her cheeks, she looks as confident as I’ve ever seen her.
Colin, slightly taken aback, manages to shake her offered hand.
I almost start laughing. I love my daughter.
“Would you like a drink, Bailey?” I ask.
“Hot chocolate?” she says hopefully. “And an apple muffin?”
“I’ll grab them,” Colin says. “Mia, anything?”
“I’ll have a drip coffee with lots of cream.”
Colin nods and darts away to order.
I lean toward my daughter. “How are you doing so far?”
