Second Chance Lane (Brockenridge #2) - Nicola Marsh Page 0,61
drop this off and go.’
‘Have you eaten yet?’
‘No. I have to pick Isla up in an hour so I was going to grab a souvlaki in town.’
‘There’s enough for two in there, yeah?’
She glanced at the dish and nodded.
‘Then join me. Please,’ he added as an afterthought when she still seemed reluctant. ‘So she dances?’
‘Yeah.’ Tash grabbed another plate and ladled mac and cheese on it, about a quarter of his portion. ‘She loves it almost as much as drama. When she’s on stage, she’s a natural.’
Kody couldn’t help but feel chuffed that maybe his daughter inherited her stage presence from him. As if sensing his thoughts, Tash stole a quick glance at him.
‘She’s like you in so many ways.’
‘Yeah?’ His throat tightened with emotion and he gratefully took the plate she held out to him.
‘Uh-huh.’ Tash grabbed some cutlery before sitting opposite him at the table and it struck him that if they’d stayed together, they would’ve done this kind of thing all the time. Sharing a simple dinner when he returned home from tour, hanging out, comfortable with each other.
He’d always felt like this around her, even when they’d been sitting cross-legged on the floor in his studio apartment in Melbourne, sharing a small pizza because they couldn’t afford anything else. She’d never made him feel second best because he didn’t have a lot of money. Back then, he’d fully expected his first real relationship to be his last, they’d been that in sync. Before she’d gutted him and stole almost thirteen years of his daughter’s life from him.
Scowling, he picked up a fork, stabbed at a glob of macaroni and shoved it into his mouth to stop from bringing up the past.
Oblivious to his deteriorating mood, Tash said, ‘There’s this way Isla has of tilting her head when she’s listening to music that reminds me of you. And she picks the sultanas out of anything. And she likes to lie in bed for at least thirty minutes after waking to ease into the day—’
‘I wonder if she can sing like me,’ he blurted, desperate to change the subject because the longer Tash waxed lyrical about how like him Isla was, the angrier he got that he hadn’t been around to witness it firsthand.
‘She has a great voice,’ Tash said. ‘But she’s never been interested in lessons or anything. Maybe that’ll change now?’
‘Maybe.’ He shoved the macaroni around his plate, his appetite gone. He hated this roller coaster of emotion whenever he was around Tash. He wanted to shelve his resentment for Isla’s sake but realising he had to learn so much about his daughter made him want to thump the table and rail at this woman who had deprived him of so much.
Tash laid her fork down and only then did he notice she’d barely touched her meal too. ‘What’s up? I thought we were okay after that coffee earlier today?’
He could lie, but opening up to Yanni earlier had been cathartic. Maybe if he lay it all on the line for Tash they could finally move forwards without the residual bitterness eating away at him?
‘We are, mostly,’ he said, gruff and abrupt. ‘And I want to learn everything about Isla, I really do, but hearing you talk about her gets me here.’ He thumped a fist over his heart. ‘I want to get past the fact you lied to me all those years ago, and that you’ve kept lying for thirteen years, but it may take time because it’s bloody tough to deal with.’
Her eyes held so much hurt and it pissed him off, because he was the injured party here, not her.
‘Tell me something. Is my name even on Isla’s birth certificate?’
She flinched, before tilting her chin up. ‘You’re her father—of course it is.’
‘Guess I should be grateful for that,’ he said. ‘This whole situation is doing my head in, thinking about how much I’ve missed out on.’
‘I’m so, so sorry. And I know an apology doesn’t cut it, but I need you to understand I never intended to hurt you. I was in a tailspin when I discovered I was pregnant and I didn’t want you to sacrifice your dreams for me—’
‘I should’ve had a say!’ he yelled, making her jump. He hated himself for it. But his latent resentment didn’t take much to ignite. Damn it.
‘You’re right,’ she murmured, and when she gave the barest of nods and a tear trickled down her cheek, something inside him broke.