Twist of Fate (Taking Chances #2) - Tia Louise Page 0,81
takes off again, running down the pretend field for her touchdown. “What have you decided? Are you staying here or are you still headed back to California?”
My heart squeezes as I watch my little girl cheering her solo victory with her funny ballerina dance. “I don’t want to miss another minute of her life.” Gran makes a noise of assent. “I’ve also invested a lot of time building a career on the West Coast. I finally got a breakthrough part, or what I hope is a breakthrough part. Can I walk away?”
Our eyes meet, and compassion is in hers. “It’s a legitimate question.”
“As you can see, I haven’t made much progress with finding the answer since we talked.”
“What does Daisy say?”
Dropping my chin, I exhale slowly, rubbing the twist in my stomach. “I haven’t talked to her about it.”
“Perhaps that’s where you should start.” I look over, and she squeezes my forearm. “There are no wrong choices here, but you’re going to have to decide.”
She always says this, and while I agree there isn’t a wrong choice, inside me I know there’s an optimum choice. I need to talk to Daisy.
My conversation with Gran is heavy on my mind as I watch Daisy move around the small kitchen in her loft apartment. She’s slicing carrots and celery, onions and bell peppers, and I’m leaning against the couch with a glass of red wine in my hand.
“You sure you don’t want me to help? I have been cooking for myself for a while now.”
“You stay right there.” She points at me with the knife, and I hold up my hands, which makes her laugh. “I invited you to dinner, and you’re going to take it easy. You’ve been helping me so much at the store and with Melody, it’s the least I can do.”
“I’m glad to help you. I want to spend time with Melody.” Who is currently in a bubble bath singing a little kid song I don’t know.
The conversation we need to have is heavy on my mind, and I know I’m running out of time to stay here if I intend to return to Los Angeles.
Daisy moves all the ingredients to a sauté pan, and the luscious aroma of tomatoes and garlic mixed with steak and Italian seasoning fills the room.
“Hey, you want to open the French Doors to let some of this out? The one design flaw in this place. No hood for the stove.”
“Daddy! Come get me!” Melody is yelling in the bathroom, and Daisy shakes her head, smiling.
“I can get her if you don’t—”
“No way, I’ll get her. You keep doing what you’re doing. It smells amazing.”
French doors open, I head to the bathroom to retrieve the princess. She’s standing in the tub with a pouf of bubbles on the top of her head and shoulders.
When I enter, she holds up both arms. “Catch me!”
“Whoa, hold it right there, Miss. You’ve still got soap on you.” She looks down, and I scoop suds off her head to show her.
She reaches up to feel her head, and I poke her round belly, which makes her squeal a laugh. A quick spray of the shower attachment, and I hold the towel under her arms for her to jump out.
“Only do that when somebody’s here to hold you.” She nods solemnly as I dry her off then she takes off running naked to their shared room.
Standing in the bathroom doorway, I look around their apartment. It’s designed for the two of them, one bedroom, one bath. Melody’s in the room she shares with her mother still singing that song, and I walk slowly to the kitchen, which flows into the open living room. There’s not room for me here.
“How’s she doing?” Daisy glances up from where she’s stirring the pasta in boiling water.
“We need to figure out a way to bottle all that energy. We’d make a killing.”
The unwelcome image of my father pops into my head. All his supplements and attempts to stay young.
“What’s wrong?” Daisy’s watching me.
“I’ve been thinking about what we should do—”
“Mac and cheese! If you please!” Melody marches into the room in her pink pajamas with her pink tutu on top, pumping her little fist over her head like she’s leading a parade.
“We’re not having mac and cheese,” Daisy corrects her. “We’re having spaghetti and meat sauce.”
“Mac and cheese!” She pumps her little fist again. “If you please!”
She faces her mom, and I’m fighting hard not to laugh.