“Indeed, much better than I deserve.”
Those words hit something in her chest. “You two seem close.”
“We make a good team, don’t you think?” He winked. “Perhaps she softens all of my rough edges.”
Her grin tugged upward. Maybe the flirty side of Finn wasn’t so bad. “She does bring out the sweetness in you.” And then, on impulse, wanting to prolong the conversation, she asked, “How long has it been just the two of you?”
He hesitated. She braced for a joke, a dodge. But instead—“Lucy’s mother left when Lucy was about eighteen months old.”
Daphne’s bottom lip dropped open and a painful squeak released from the sudden pang in her chest. She looked toward the living room where Lucy lay asleep. “How... how could she possibly leave you?”
Finn stared at her with that puzzling expression again—like he was searching—and then his expression gentled into a tender smile she felt all the way to her heart.
What would something like that do to a man? How would it change him?
He gestured toward the living room with his chin. “Lucy was born with a bilateral cleft lip and palate,” he said, voice quiet. “A fairly severe case.”
Bilateral cleft? Her confusion must have shown because his frown softened. “Bilateral means that both sides of her upper lip, beneath both nostrils”—he pointed to his mouth to give a visual—“were open from the lips back through the bony part of the roof of her mouth, the hard palate.”
Daphne’s tongue followed the direction he’d described, her imagination trying to make sense of it. “Oh.”
So that was why Lucy had the little scar above her lips. Was that the reason for some of her speech sounds too?
“By the time Lucy was eighteen months old, she’d had several surgeries to help correct it, along with some medical difficulties that comealong with a cleft. For example, ear infections, feeding complications, and speech impediments.”
Daphne’s stomach hollowed. “And... her mother couldn’t...?”
He studied her again in that strange sort of way and then cleared his throat. “She didn’t want kids. Or marriage. I was young. I thought love would be enough to change her mind.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Turns out I was more naive than charming. A little arrogant too.” His smile turned wry. “Imagine that.”
Something cracked open inside Daphne. A tiny fissure where assumptions had lived. She saw him even more differently now—clearer—less like a flirt, more like a man who’d been burned and learned to armor himself in charisma.
“I think we’ve all been there at some point.” The words emerged softly. “Naive. Hopeful. A little blind trust? It’s what makes the best heartbreak stories.”
His gaze sharpened on hers. “Sounds like you’ve got a few chapters of your own.”
“Enough to know how the plot goes.” She sighed. “But nothing like yours. I’m so sorry, Finn.” Her words rasped for a totally different reason, the raw awareness of being left behind by someone who should have loved you more than the circumstances...
Yes, she understood that.
Viscerally.
“You’ve done a great job with Lucy. She’s wonderful.”
His lips crooked, a fresh glow lighting his eyes, softening his smile.
And shefelthis love for his little girl.
“Despite my best attempts at getting her to listen to rock music and despise all things princess.”
Daphne fought against a renewed rush of warmth in her eyes. Her past flashed to the surface. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with those fairy tales. Sometimes children need them in order to believe that all of the hard things won’t last forever. They’re predictable, and nomatter how many times we watch them or read about them, the ending is always good. The men don’t leave their true loves behind. The dark stuff goes away.” He blurred in her vision. “And we’repromiseda happily ever after.”
His gaze searched hers. Held. Studied.
The gravitational pull toward him renewed with a fervor. It would only take one step and she’d be in his arms... and what would that feel like? To have a man who’d wrap her in a hug and help her believe that fairy tales could rise out of their bindings and into the real world. To have someone stay even when life was hard or dragons reared their ugly heads. To hold her hand when the world shifted.
Could flirty Finn Dashwood be that sort of man? For her?
Finn stepped closer—close enough she could feel his warmth again.
