VANCE
It was nearing nine by the time the movie finished. Margot tried to hide a yawn, but I knew she was exhausted. So was I. The kind of bone-deep tired that comes from emotional highs and lows and everything in between.
“Bedtime,” Lila said. “Mia, take Margot upstairs and show her the bathroom and where to brush her teeth.”
“Vance, do you want to tuck us in?” Mia asked, her voice more vulnerable than I’d ever heard it. She might be a teenager, but she still longed for a father who made her feel safe and loved. And I was going to be that man. Maybe I’d known it from the start—but tonight, I felt it deep in my bones. This was all meant to be.
“I’d love to,” I said, my throat tight. “Go on up. I’ll be right there.”
The girls headed upstairs, their footsteps soft overhead, followed by the sound of running water and quiet laughter.
Lila and I rose from the loveseat. She wrapped her arms around my waist. “How you doing?”
“Amazed.”
“Mia’s been waiting her whole life for a father who wants to tuck her in.” She touched my face. “And here you are—falling from the clear blue sky.”
“Mia set this all in motion,” I said. “Isn’t it crazy?”
“It is. The good kind of crazy.” She kissed me softly. “Go. They’re waiting. I’ll pour us some more wine.”
I climbed the stairs, my heart doing complicated things in my chest. The air upstairs felt hushed, almost sacred. The door to Mia’s room was ajar, soft lamplight spilling into the hallway.
I knocked gently. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah, we have our jammies on already,” Mia called.
The room was pure Mia—art supplies everywhere, fairy lights strung across the window, a cork board covered in photos of her friends. The bunk beds stood against one wall, and both girls were already under the covers. Margot had chosen the bottom bunk, her arms wrapped around the stuffed bear. Mia was on top, her head hanging over the edge so she could see us both, dark hair covering half her face.
I sat on the floor, my back against the dresser.
Margot watched me with those serious eyes, curious but guarded.
“Did you like the movie, mon cœur ?” I asked.
“Mon cœur ,” Margot said softly. “I remember. And you were ‘Papa.’”
“That’s right.” I had a sudden image of the morning fog dissipating in the morning sun. That’s what she’d called me when she was little. “What was your favorite part of the movie?”
“I liked the part when the seeds grew,” Margot said. “And they did the dance, and all the trees sprouted.”
“That’s my favorite part too,” Mia said, still hanging over the side of the bed. “The magic was there all along. They just had to find it.”
“Yeah,” Margot agreed.
Mia rolled to her side and closed her eyes. From outside came the faint chirp of a cricket, then the low hoot of an owl.
“Vance?” Mia asked, her voice suddenly shy.
“Yeah?”
“Would you sing that song? The French one? That you used to sing to Margot?”
I looked up at her, surprised. She still had her eyes closed, perhaps too shy to look at me when she asked.
“You want me to sing?”
“I thought it would make Margot feel at home,” Mia said.
