Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“Dad’s not in trouble,” I said carefully. “He’s dealing with some complicated grown-up stuff. Did he know you were coming here?”
Luca shook his head, suddenly looking guilty. “I left him a note. He was talking really quiet and making worried faces, and I was scared.”
The serious voice. I knew exactly what he meant, the controlled tone Colby used when he was trying not to lose his temper. He’d probably been talking to his lawyer, getting the full scope of what he was up against.
“Okay, let’s call him and let him know you’re safe.” I reached for my phone, but Luca caught my hand.
“Miss G? Are you sad too?”
The innocent question hit me like a physical blow. “Why would you think I’m sad, sweetheart?”
“You have that face like when you mess up the flowers and have to start over. And you look tired like Dad does when he has too much work.”
I closed my eyes, marveling at how perceptive children could be. They might not understand the details, but they always picked up on the emotional undercurrents.
“Sometimes grown-ups worry about things,” I said carefully. “But that doesn’t mean anything bad is going to happen to you.”
“Is Dad worried about me?”
“Your dad loves you more than anything in the whole world. Sometimes when people love someone that much, they worry about keeping them safe and happy.”
Luca nodded solemnly, accepting this explanation the way six-year-olds did. “Can we make Dad feel better? Maybe with cookies?”
Despite everything, I smiled. In Luca’s world, most problems could be solved with cookies or hugs or maybe a really good story. If only adult life were that simple.
“I think cookies are an excellent idea,” I said. “But first, let’s call your dad so he doesn’t worry about where you are.”
Colby answered on the first ring, relief flooding his voice when I told him Luca was safe with me. “Jesus, I found his note, but . . . thank you. I’ll be right there.”
“Take your time. We’re going to go upstairs and make cookies.”
“Can I talk to him?”
I handed the phone to Luca, who immediately launched into an explanation about how he’d remembered to look both ways and use the crosswalks, just like Dad had taught him. I listened to his side of the conversation, hearing Colby’s patient responses through the phone.
“Dad wants to know if you need anything from the store for the cookies,” Luca said, covering the phone with his small hand.
“Tell him we have everything we need.”
After they hung up, I locked my shop up took Luca upstairs to my apartment. We spent the next twenty minutes mixing dough and talking about normal six-year-old things. Like his upcoming soccer game, whether dinosaurs could swim, and his theory that vegetables tasted better when you dipped them in ranch dressing. I let myself get lost in his chatter, grateful for the distraction from the turmoil in my head.
When Colby arrived, I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands had clenched into fists at his sides. But his face transformed when he saw Luca standing on a step stool, carefully dropping chocolate chips into cookie dough.
“Looks like you’ve been busy,” he said, ruffling his son’s hair.
“Miss G let me crack the eggs, and I only got a little bit of shell in the bowl,” Luca announced proudly. “We fished it out with more eggshell which is funny.” He giggled.
“Good job, buddy.” Colby’s eyes met mine over Luca’s head, and I saw gratitude there along with the worry. “Thank you,” he mouthed.
We spent the next hour baking cookies and letting Luca tell us elaborate stories about the adventures of Cookie Monster and Big Bird. Normal domestic activities that felt both comforting and heartbreaking, given what we were facing.
When it was time to go, Luca hugged me tight around the waist. “Thanks for making cookies with me, Miss G. And for not being sad anymore.”
“Thank you for helping me feel better, sweetheart.”
After they left, I sat alone in my apartment surrounded by the smell of fresh cookies and the weight of an impossible decision. Colby’s request echoed in my mind, along with Summer’s words about how much I cared for Luca.
I walked back down to my shop, turned the closed sign to open and tried not to think about the customers I may have missed. Instead, I tried to focus on the chrysanthemum arrangement, but my hands shook as I reached for the stems. Three years. That’s how long I’d been in love with Colby Marshall, though I’d never admitted it to anyone, not even myself, most of the time.
It had started the night his world fell apart. November third, to be exact. I remembered because it was the same day I’d gotten the call that my own father had remarried without telling me, making it clear once again that I wasn’t really part of anyone’s family. I’d been wallowing in my apartment with a bottle of wine and a terrible romantic comedy when my phone rang at midnight.