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)
I do too.
I wipe a tear from my cheek. “I thought he loved me too, Eloise.”
She nods. “Maybe love is more complicated when you’re a parent.”
That might be true, but Berk walked out of my life so abruptly.
I was the one facing a life-changing decision regarding my career, yet he was the one who changed my life with a decision he made all by himself.
“We can’t go back in time,” Eloise says with a sigh. “Replaying the past won’t change it. You have to focus on your future now.”
I know she’s right.
“Did Mr. Ryan get back to you about the contract yet?” she asks with anticipation in her tone.
“Not yet,” I answer, shifting so I can look at her face. “He said it will take some time to go through all the fine details, but he said so far, it looks great.”
Her eyes lock on mine. “It will be great. I know it will be. You’ll sign and jet off to the west coast to become a superstar.”
She tugs on the front of her T-shirt, drawing a slight laugh out of me.
“Nothing is holding you back, Astrid.” She squeezes my hand. “Your songs are so beautiful. They are going to touch millions of people. Everyone will want a piece of you.”
That might be true, but there’s one person who already has a piece of me.
My heart will never be whole again. A piece of it will always belong to Berk, and I can’t imagine that ever changing.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Berk
“Dad?”
The person attached to that sweet voice has been the only thing that has gotten me through the past twelve days.
I’ve been wandering through my life feeling as though I’m an imposter.
The vibrant, loving father Stevie deserves has been replaced with a man facing a depth of sorrow he hasn’t before.
I struggled immensely after Layna’s death, but this is different.
Astrid had taken ownership of a piece of my heart that will never be available to another human being.
I already know that.
My love for my wife was grounded in our commitment to raise the daughter we created.
What I feel for Astrid is much different. She lit a fire inside of me. She taught me that two people could connect on a level that I never knew existed.
I miss her.
Jesus, do I miss her.
I’ve avoided the subway stop where I first saw her. In a weak moment, I passed by her store a few days ago, but I didn’t see Astrid or Eloise when I glanced inside. I saw Castle behind the checkout counter.
I don’t know if that means that Astrid was in the backroom or if she’s already left New York for Los Angeles.
Either way, her life is moving forward.
I won’t stand in the path of her future, and I can’t ask my daughter to upend her life to follow me while I chase the woman I love around the country.
Layna witnessed the close relationships my siblings have with my daughter. Shortly before she died, she made me promise her that I’d do everything in my power to continue nurturing those bonds. She wanted Stevie to grow up surrounded by the love of my family in the home that Layna and I had created for her.
I turn to see Stevie enter the kitchen. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” she tosses the greeting back to me with her own twist on it. “I think I should change my name to Stevie.”
Perplexed, I huff out a chuckle. “Your name is Stevie.”
That pulls a laugh out of her. “I think it should be just Stevie. One name only. I could drop the Morgan and just be Stevie.”
That should hurt, but I know exactly where this is coming from.
Stevie has ditched her obsession with dolphins and whales. She’s fixated on painting after her visit to The Met with Sinclair over a week ago.
There was an exhibit by an artist who goes by the name of Arrow.
Since then, my daughter has decided that she wants to be just like Arrow.
“I like Stevie Morgan,” I say while pouring cereal into a bowl. “Why don’t you stick with the name for a few more years?”
She waves a hand at me as I start for the refrigerator to grab the milk. “I’ll eat it dry today. Can I get a glass of apple juice on the side?”
“Of course.”
“Can we talk about Astrid?”
That stops me in place. I glance at the floor. “We talked about Astrid, sweetheart.”
“No,” she says. “You talked about her. You told me she was going to record her songs in California. You said she was going on tour.”
I did say that, and it broke my daughter’s heart. She wants more guitar lessons, lunches at Crispy Biscuit, and more time with Astrid.
I reach for a glass before pulling a carton of apple juice from the fridge. “That’s right, Stevie.”
She waits to respond until I’m in front of her with the glass of juice. “I want to talk to you about her. I want to say what I feel inside.”