“I did. Can you believe he didn’t knowanywords to this song? Thankfully, he caught on quick. I kept telling him I needed to practice, not teach him.”
A sharp laugh escapes my lips. I love how this little girl is not afraid to tell him how it is. “Well, I’m glad he caught on. I’d say he has practice in doing so.”
“He kept reminding me how, normally, he writes the lyrics, so there’s no learning involved. I told him he was silly. Even though he wrote them, he still had to memorize them.” She gives the bestduhexpression, and I have a hard time keeping my smile hidden.
When our time arrives during the service, my father announces that we have a special performance before Cailin and I walk to the stage, hand in hand.
I turn to see if she’s nervous, but the smile spread wide and shoulders held high prove she’s more than ready. I place my fingers on the keys, and she sings right on cue.
The sudden hush over the crowd surprises even me. I glance up from the piano to see everyone’s attention on us. My mom’s hand covers her mouth, and my sister’s eyes are open wide as she listens to the singing little girl, who is only a year older than her daughter.
This is the first time we’ve had a child sing other than the children’s Christmas pageant, and when we finish, the congregation gives her a standing ovation. Warmth radiates throughout my body, and I cover my mouth to hide the joyous laughter wanting to release from my lips.
For everyone else to see and recognize the talent I saw last week, it makes me just as proud as if she were my own.
Her face glows when she glances up at me, stunned at the reaction. When my eyes meet with Linda, I see the tears flowing freely just as one slips from mine as well.
We take our seat back in the pews, and multiple people turn to congratulate Cailin on how well she did.
She sits, curled up in my side for the rest of the service. Her being here feels so natural, and—I’m not going to lie—I love having her next to me.
When my dad excuses us, more people approach Cailin with praise. She modestly accepts it, making sure to thank every person and smile sweetly doing so.
Linda is holding up her phone and motioning for us to go to the side of the stage. I take Cailin’s hand and head to Linda, only to see Adam staring back at me on FaceTime.
Instantly, my breath hitches.
Why am I doing this?
I should be staying away from him, yet here I am, singing with his daughter and having her curled up by my side.
Why aren’t I thinking things through better? She’s the one child I should be keeping my distance from, yet I keep inviting her in closer.
Way too many memories have come boiling up ever since I learned he was her dad. A trip down that lane is not one I ever want to take.
Cailin, of course, runs to him. “Daddy, did you see me?”
She yanks the phone from Linda and holds it so she can see him more clearly.
“Sugarplum, you were amazing!”
“Thank you, Daddy, and Miss Russo too!”
She points the camera my way, catching me off guard.
I wave, and Adam smirks, slightly raising his eyebrows as he says, “How could I miss Miss Russo?”
Heat creeps its way up my body, and I pray my face isn’t turning bright red.
Linda catches my attention as a shit-eating grin covers her face that makes me flush even more.
Cailin turns the phone back to where it’s facing her and begins to tell her dad every part of her performance, including the applause at the end. If Adam was on FaceTime during the song, then he already knows all of this, but he sits silently, taking in everything that Cailin says like it’s the most important thing he’s ever been told and he doesn’t want to miss one single word.
Linda steps closer to me, whispering, “It’s moments like this that make everything worth it.”
I nod, tilting my head to the side in awe of the two of them. Seeing them together like this melts my heart and fades my worries away about letting her in.
10
