Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
She nods. “Yes.”
I was looking forward to hearing all about it and hopefully toasting to her future success over a few glasses of ice water, but I sense she’s not in the mood to discuss it at the moment.
As Stevie flips the menu over to read the list of desserts that she’s well acquainted with, Astrid leans closer to me.
“Can we talk about it later?” she whispers. “Maybe when we’re…”
“Oh, I remember the cherry pie they have here.” Stevie giggles. “It tastes like it has lemonade in it.”
I glance at Astrid. That has to remind her of her mom.
If it does, she’s not showing it.
She smiles at my daughter. “We’re going to need to split a piece of that.”
“I agree.” Stevie grins. “I’ll order one piece with enough whipped cream on top for both of us.”
We exit the diner with the mid-day sun bathing us in warmth.
Stevie closes her eyes immediately as she tilts her face up. “I love sunshine.”
“Me too,” Astrid whispers as she stares at my daughter. “It makes the day so much better.”
Stevie cracks open one eyelid to look at Astrid. “I think so too, but I do like the rain. Sometimes my dad and I walk in puddles on purpose.”
Astrid laughs. “That makes a lot of sense.”
I chuckle. “Are you referring to the night you played at the bar?”
“You ran into the rain.” She points a finger at me. “You didn’t care about your suit.”
“Suits can be replaced,” Stevie says. “Moments can’t be.”
Astrid’s eyes widen. “That’s very wise, Stevie.”
“My dad taught me that.” She glances at my face. “He’s a pretty smart guy.”
“Thank you.” I tilt my chin down to look into my daughter’s eyes. “How would you feel about meeting your Auntie Sinclair for an adventure this afternoon? It’ll be just the two of you.”
I look at Astrid. She seems just as stunned as Stevie by the idea.
During lunch, I sent a text message to my sister asking if she could spare a few hours for Stevie.
She told me that she was headed down to The Metropolitan Museum of Art to check out a new exhibit that Brighton Beck has been raving about.
It seems that her time spent working with the artist is rekindling her love for painting.
“Do you and Astrid need alone time?” Stevie asks. “Time for holding hands and kissing?”
“Something like that.” I smile. “Sinclair is going to take you to The Met.”
“The Met?” Stevie glances down at the navy blue dress and white shoes she’s wearing. “Thank goodness I dressed up for lunch. A girl has to look her best for a Sunday afternoon at The Met.”
“So we should head that direction now?” I ask my daughter.
She grabs my wrist to look at my watch. “We better. You know how much Auntie Sinclair loves The Met. We’ll probably be there until they close.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Astrid
I wasn’t planning on spending the afternoon alone with Berk, but I won’t turn down the opportunity.
I had the chance to meet Berk’s sister, Sinclair.
She seems lovely, and I’d guess that she’s right around my age.
Stevie was thrilled to see her aunt. She jumped into her arms as we approached her on the sidewalk in front of The Met.
After hugs all around and a few kisses on the forehead from Berk to his daughter, we parted ways with them.
Berk asked if I could go home with him, but Eloise is minding Vinyl Crush, and I promised her that I’d be back by three so she could head to campus to work on a project due in a few days.
I glance at his face as we round the corner toward my store. “Eloise is probably going to call you Hot Dad.”
Laughing, Berk squeezes my hand. “Does that bother you?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “Does it bother you?”
“Not at all.” He smiles. “As long as you agree with her assessment of me.”
I stop to look into his eyes. “You know that I do.”
His hand jumps up to cup my chin. “I do know that.”
“I’m sorry we have to spend our alone time at the store.” I start walking toward Vinyl Crush again. “We can talk in between customers.”
“All I wanted was time with you,” he admits. “I don’t care if it’s in my bed or your store. I cherish every second we have together, Astrid.”
I do too.
“I’m eager to hear about your call with Keyline.” He pauses before he goes on, “If you’re comfortable talking about it.”
“I am.”
“Let’s get inside.” He motions toward the door of the store. “I’ll brew us up some espresso.”
It’s just an offer to make me a beverage, but the familiarity in the words makes my heart stutter a beat.
Before Berk can touch the door handle, Eloise has swung it open for us.
“Welcome back,” she says excitedly. “I see you brought a visitor with you.”
“Hey, Eloise,” Berk greets her. “How are you?”