“Isla’s absolutely delightful,” I say, working to keep my voice steady. “She told me all about seeing a fairy in the garden.”
Aileen laughs. “Oh, that girl has quite the imagination! Aidan was just as wild and full of stories when he was her age. Don’t let that tough exterior fool you. He’s got a soft heart.”
I bite my lip, trying not to reveal just how interested I am in learning more about Aidan. “I’ve noticed that already,” I say with a smile, picking up my pen again. “So…fairies, then? I can definitely work with that.”
I’m trying to focus on my notes, but the image of gruff, serious Aidan meticulously painting fairy doors makes admiration bloom in my chest.
I press on. “So, what flavors does she like? Chocolate? Vanilla?”
“Strawberry,” she says decidedly. “She’s mad for anything strawberry.”
I jot that down, my mind already spinning with ideas. “And when would you need it?”
“Her birthday’s March first. It’s a Sunday, but I know you’re off that day so I could come get it a day early?”
I shake my head. “That’s okay. I want it to be fresh. I could drop it off to you that Sunday if you’d like. I know you don’t live too far.”
“Oh, that would be lovely. You don’t mind?”
“It’s no trouble at all.” Aileen studies me as I jot down her address. “I’m excited to do something special for Isla.”
“You’re an angel,” she says. “I’m sure Aidan will appreciate it, too.”
My cheeks flush. “Oh, well, I’m just happy to help.”
We talk pricing and chat for a while longer before a few more customers come in. As she gathers her belongings to leave, I can’t help the swirl of emotions churning inside me. Aidan is Aileen’s son. It makes perfect sense now. They have the same gray eyes. How did I not see it before?
I lean against the counter, my mind racing. This changes things, doesn’t it? Or maybe it doesn’t change anything at all. I’m not even sure what “things” I’m referring to, because there aren’t any “things” between Aidan and me to change in the first place.
I’ve just volunteered to personally deliver a birthday cake to what’s bound to be a full-blown family gathering. What on earth was I thinking?
“You’re overthinking this,” I mutter to myself as I wipe down the counter with perhaps more vigor than necessary.It’s just a cake. For a child.
And an excuse to see her dad again.
No.
I press my palms to my cheeks and blow out a frustrated breath.Focus, Lucy. Cake. Child. Delivery. Not daydreams about Aidan.
Dang it.
thirteen
AIDAN
Igot back from work yesterday just in time for Isla’s birthday. I glance at the clock and mentally curse. It’s just after noon. I’d meant to leave earlier, but when you’re responsible for a kid who insists on wearing mismatched socks and combing her hair with a fork, well…time slips away faster than I’d like to admit.
“All right, kiddo, let’s get you in the car. You’re going to be late for your own party,” I call to Isla, who’s stumbling around as she tries to put on her own shoes. She’s twisting her right shoe onto her left foot, tongue sticking out in concentration.
I sigh, crouching down to help. “Wrong foot, love.”
“I can do it myself,” she insists, yanking the shoe off with surprising force. Her bottom lip juts out, that stubborn determination flashing in her eyes. The same look her mother used to get.
I hold my hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. But we need to hurry.”
She’s five today.Five. How did that happen so fast? It feels like yesterday I was holding this tiny human in my arms, tryingto figure out how to be responsible for someone other than myself. Now she’s all fire and independence.
She’s starting school later this year, and I’m thrilled for her, but I also want to press pause and keep her like this, small and determined and impossibly fierce.
