I steal a quick glance at the clock on the microwave. I hate denying my daughter the opportunity to share her feelings, but we have fifteen minutes before we need to leave for school.
“Can we talk about it tonight?”
Taking a sip of juice, she nods. “Book us a table at Axel Tribeca.”
I smile. “You don’t think we can discuss this at home?”
“Nope,” she punctuates that curt answer with a brisk shake of her head.
“I’m not sure I can reserve a table on that short of notice,” I say quietly. “Maybe we can compromise, and I’ll order in from there.”
“I like that idea, Dad.”
I tap my palm on the counter. “Finish up so I can get you to school on time.”
She tosses a piece of O-shaped cereal into her mouth. “I’m going to take this to my room. I have to write one thing in my diary before we go.”
“About Dallas?” I ask.
“Dallas?” she laughs. “He’s my past. I write about Brax in my diary now.”
“Brax?”
“Don’t ask any questions about him.” She tugs on the diary key strung on the chain around her neck. “Only my diary knows how I feel about him.”
“I got a call from you last night,” Mrs. Hosek says as soon as I arrive at my office after dropping Stevie off at school.
“I didn’t call you,” I point out.
“Someone who shall remain nameless called me from your phone when you were in the shower.”
I huff out a laugh. “Was that someone supposed to be in bed?”
“That would be my guess.” She glances at her desk. “I swore to her that I wouldn’t tell you about the call, but I need to say something to you, Berk.”
I dive a hand into the front pocket of my pants. “Shoot.”
“Your daughter understands a lot more than you think she does.”
I agree with a nod.
“The woman who was teaching Stevie guitar lessons is the same woman you went to see the night I stayed over.” She pushes her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’m right about that, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“You’re in love with her.”
I haven’t admitted that to anyone, but I see no reason to hide the fact anymore. “I am, but…”
“But she’s gone out west to make a record.” Mrs. Hosek clucks her tongue. “Stevie told me. She also told me that she misses Astrid.”
“I do too.”
“Did she end the relationship to take the record deal?” she questions. “Or did something else happen?”
Mrs. Hosek doesn’t know everything about my past.
To her, I’m a former student who built a career that he’s passionate about. She views me as a devoted single father who was widowed much too young.
She sees bits and pieces of the man that I am.
“It ended,” I say succinctly. “The small details are irrelevant.”
“They aren’t to Stevie,” she points out. “She called me to ask if I had any ideas for a romantic way to get you two back together. She thinks since I’m writing a romance novel, I’m an expert on that.”
I smile. “You are, aren’t you?”
She laughs. “I’m not. I am a concerned friend who hopes you’ll think about what’s best for you, Berk. You deserve a second chance at happiness. Don’t let it slip away.”
It’s already gone.
I used my time on the subway this morning to look at Keyline Music Group’s social media. They’re set to announce the signing of a “major, new breakout star,” bright and early on Monday morning.
If Astrid isn’t already in L.A. for that, she’s on her way.
“It’s time to get to work,” I say, hopeful that Mrs. Hosek will switch her focus to the calls I need her to make.
“All right.” She sighs. “You do realize that it’s Friday, and I’m not scheduled to work, right? I’m here because the party that my neighbors started last night hasn’t ended.”
I fish in my pants pocket and pull out my keys. “Go to my house and take the day to write.”
She reaches forward to snatch the keys into her palm. “I’ll do that until noon. After that, I’m treating myself to a spa day.”
“Good for you.”
She pushes to stand. “Remember what I said. Love doesn’t come around often. Maybe you need to consider whether you should let it slip away.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Berk
“You finished every last bite on your plate,” I point out to Stevie. “I take it that Axel Tribeca has shot to the top of the list of your favorite restaurants in New York City?”
She nods. “There’s an Axel in Boston too, Dad. When we visit Grandma and Grandpa, we should take them there.”
It’s a sweet sentiment, but in reality, that won’t happen.
Layna’s parents always insist on cooking when Stevie and I visit them. Over the years, I’ve been able to convince them that we’re more comfortable in a hotel than we are in their home.
It’s not that they aren’t welcoming, but their home is a shrine to their only child. Layna was the light of their lives, and her death destroyed them emotionally.