My throat closes over for a second as I blink back tears. “You think I’m a good father?”
Didn’t I just explain yesterday how I killed my daughter’s nanny?
“You love her, and you clearly don’t mind showing it.” Isabelle’s fingers draw a circle on my biceps. “I’m glad you found Meri, too. It’s nice you have each other.”
“It is. We’re both still in touch with our adoptive parents, too. They’re still fostering kids into their home.”
“So, Sophia has grandparents?”
I link my hands together, resting them just above her waist. “Alice’s parents are both still alive, too, so she has a full set.”
“Really?” She taps out a quick beat on my shoulder. “It’s weird. I’ve been thinking of you two as being all alone.”
“Despite the mass of people constantly in and out of this place?”
“Well, yeah. Staff and team members don’t count.”
“I’ll be sure to tell them that. They’ll be thrilled.”
She barks out a laugh. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.” Holding Isabelle in place with one hand, I bend upright to grab the bedcovers and drag them over us as the air starts to feel chilly. “What about you? What’s your tale of woe?”
She yawns and snuggles against me. “I don’t have one. My childhood was pretty standard.”
“Where’s your mother?”
“She died about eight years ago. Cancer. My stepdad was a complete tosser to her during the whole thing, so it was a relief when he moved north after she died.”
“You don’t stay in touch?”
I feel her shake her head. “No. I might call him if my cousin gets married or dies or something, but I can’t see us talking outside of that.”
“What about ifyouget married or something?”
She scrunches up her face but doesn’t answer. After a while, she adds, “I used to be a figure skater. At one point, my partner and I had a shot at the Winter Olympics. I spent my teens in training every spare hour of the day. Even if I wasn’t out on the ice, I’d be exercising to increase my performance, or watching other skaters. Trying to figure out how they controlled their bodies to create the different moves.”
“That sounds like a lot to sacrifice.”
“It was a privilege not a sacrifice. I knew I could be the best if I just committed to the goal and made sure not to half-arse anything along the way.”
She rolls off me, lying on her back and frowning at the ceiling. “I didn’t have boyfriends. Didn’t have friends at all, not really. I lost my virginity to my coach and went to my senior’s dance with my skating partner who was the most flamboyantly gay teenager you could ever hope to meet.”
“Your coach?” I catch her hand and press my lips to it. “That doesn’t sound regulation.”
“Yeah. Most mistakes aren’t.” She wrinkles her nose as though smelling something putrid.
“How old was he?”
“Hm?” She gives a shrug, but her body is tensing. “Not much older. Don’t worry, I wasof age.”
“It’s not the age so much as the imbalance.”
“Like a bazillionaire and a woman who earns minimum wage?”
I want to know more but for now I put it on my to-do list to investigate later. The answers can wait. “It sounds like you were lonely.”
She wrinkles her nose, but the faraway expression stays on her face. “It didn’t feel like that. There were always people around. Investing in my future. Investing in me. Then I injured my ankle and poof”—she mimics an explosion with her hands—“it all disappeared.”
