Page 82 of The Mr. Right Checklist

“Let me know if it bothers you, and I’ll stop.” I pick up The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society from the end table, where I put it while she was sleeping earlier, and begin reading the first line of her mother’s favorite book. Destiny looks up at me with tears in her eyes. I wink, and continue reading.

“Fletch.” Her voice is shaky as tears slide down her cheeks, but she’s smiling. “Where did you get that?”

“I had Marshall pick it up when he got the other things.”

Her forehead falls to my thigh, her shoulders jerking with her tears.

I rub her back, my chest tightening. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would upset you.”

“It didn’t.” She sniffles and rests her cheek on my thigh again, her tears flowing freely. “I’m happy, not sad.”

Relief washes over me, and I continue reading. Eventually her tears stop, and I feel her whole body sigh. A few chapters later, she’s sleeping again. I keep reading, because not only am I invested in the story, but I’m also deeply invested in her, and on the off chance that she hears my voice in her sleep, I hope it brings her sweet dreams of her parents.

She shifts, mumbling in her sleep, “He wasn’t supposed to be so wonderful.”

I don’t know if she’s dreaming or not, but if she is, I selfishly hope that was about me.

Chapter Twenty-Four

DESTINY

My fever broke sometime during the night, and by Sunday afternoon I felt much more like myself, although still as tired as a wet dishrag. I wanted to go over the deliveries for Arjun’s proposal and check the designs and spelling for the special-moment signs that I’m having printed tomorrow, but my charming caretaker refused to let me work. He said I’d worn myself ragged the last few weeks making sure everything was perfect, and that my only job today was to rest and recuperate so I’d be in tip-top shape for the event next weekend. Then, while I lay on the couch with Molly and Clementine, he went through each of the thirty-seven special-moment designs looking for typos, and after he was done, he went over my spreadsheets with a fine-tooth comb. He compared them to the delivery schedule and even went through the invoices to make sure nobody had overcharged me. When he finished all that, he made me soup and toast for dinner and read more of my mother’s favorite book to me.

Now we’re sharing a lounge chair in my backyard. I’m sitting between his legs with my back against his chest. His arms are wrapped around me, and every now and then he kisses the top of my head or pets Molly, who is sleeping in the grass beside us. She hasn’t left my side, either.

I don’t know which of Fletch’s skills is stronger, his organization and attention to detail or his caretaking abilities. He’s been nothing short of amazing, taking such good care of me and calling in a favor for the things I needed and the things I hadn’t realized I needed, like the socks and my mother’s favorite book. Listening to him read me the story made me feel like I could get through puking all night if that was the turn I took.

I gaze up at the stars, so full of emotions I’m sure my parents can feel them in whatever realm they exist. I put my hands over Fletch’s, and he laces our fingers together. I want to freeze this evening and stay in this bubble of happiness forever.

“How’re you feeling, sunshine?”

“Good.”

“Are you warm enough?”

“Yes. Your body is like a furnace.”

He kisses my cheek. “Around you it is. You’ve been quiet. Are you thinking about Ruby or your big event next weekend?”

I texted Ruby earlier and was relieved to hear she wasn’t sick like I was. She’d called a few hours later to tell me she’d taken a pregnancy test and the results were positive. She’s going to schedule an appointment with her doctor to confirm, but we were both in tears.

“I was actually thinking about you. You’re pretty good at this caretaking stuff. You inspired another item for my checklist.”

He kisses my head again. “What’s that? Someone who’s good with spreadsheets?”

“I’m definitely adding that to my list. I meant caretaking. It’s been a long time since anyone has taken care of me like that. When I was young, my mom did, and my dad took good care of me after she was gone, but it was different.”

“I would think it would be. Mothers and fathers handle things differently.”

My chest aches from a truth I’ve held in for years. This time, as I look up at the stars, my eyes tear up. I love you, Daddy. Please don’t think I wish anything was different other than Mama not dyin’. I love the way you cared for me, but I want to share my truth with Fletch, because I might never feel this close to anyone again.

“Are you all right, sunshine?” He presses a kiss beside my ear. “You’re squeezing my fingers pretty tight.”

“I’m okay. Sorry about that. Can I tell you something without you thinking poorly about my dad?”

“I have nothing but respect for your father and the incredible job of raising you he did. So, unless you’re about to tell me that he physically or emotionally hurt you, I don’t think you could mar his reputation in my eyes.”

“Now you’ve got me all weepy.” I laugh softly and wipe my eyes. “Thank you. He was a special man, and he deserves that.”