His body shook, then he took her face in his hands and kissed her hard on the mouth. He kissed her with his whole body, and deep down she knew.
It would be their last kiss.
It had to be.
* * *
Owen calledin sick for the first time in a decade. That was a mistake, because someone—probably Dani—immediately texted Becca to make sure he was taking care of himself, and she forwarded the message, warning him she was about to show up on his doorstep.
“Dad?” she called as she stepped into the living room.
He raised his hand from his prone position on the couch. In it was his phone. “I replied to you and told you I was fine.”
“I ignored you and came over anyway. What’s wrong?” She appeared above him, Charlie asleep in a baby wrap on her chest.
“Nothing.”
“Is it the flu? Don’t breathe on me.”
“You came over here, and no, it’s not the flu.” He frowned. “Do I look like I’m having respiratory problems?”
“You look like you’re having attitude problems,” she replied crisply. “So I’m here to help with that.”
“Go away.”
“That’s nice.”
“I say it with love.” Sighing, he swung his feet around so he could sit up. Sit, slump. It was all the same.
“What’s going on?”
He had to swallow hard around the lump in his throat to admit the truth. “I hurt Kerry. We broke up.”
“What did you do?”
He shook his head. No way was he detailing that to his daughter, no matter how grown up she suddenly was. She stood there for a minute, then disappeared into the kitchen. Slowly, he followed. “What are you doing?”
She was rummaging through the pantry cupboard. “You’ve moved things.”
“What are you looking for?”
“You need some oatmeal.”
His chest pulled tight. “Oh, it’s, uh…” He gestured to the bottom shelf. “Baking stuff.”
He couldn’t tell her not to make him oatmeal, that it reminded him of making Kerry cookies, of feeding them to her.
Of making love, and then it all going sideways.
So he let his daughter make him a bowl of porridge. He ate it, fair comeuppance after eighteen years of forcing her to do the same. She sat across from him until Charlie woke up, then they went for a walk.
Becca didn’t ask him again for details. She didn’t complain when he delivered her to the apartment where she lived, and told her he was going to keep walking on his own.
But the next morning she showed up at the house again. She made him oatmeal again. And deep inside him, something tore loose.
Chapter Twenty-Four
By the endof the week, he was sick of himself. Sick of lying on the couch and being miserable. So he had a shower, shaved his damn face, and went to work. They weren’t expecting him. Dani was on her fourth shift as fill-in supervisor, and the white board had never looked better.
