Page 10

Her head falls back, and laughter pours from her. She’s so unadulterated in her joy that I can scarcely breathe. When she wipes her eyes and meets my gaze, her smile is soft and delicious. “Well, you’re certainly right about that.”

She winks at Birdie. “I’ve fallen prey to that more times than I want to admit.”

My daughter’s smile is huge on her face. She’s almost finished with her dinner, so I peg Sofia with one more question. “What’s your thesis project about?”

Sofia wiggles in her seat, straightening again. “It’s a point of view documentary of my life during my senior year. A mix of artistic flair in the editing to make something not quite content and not quite serious. The perfect blend of me.”

“Who's your advisor?”

“Professor Trevino.”

My brows go up. I know him, of course. Many of our students and studies cross over, but he rarely takes on students for this kind of thing. Most of them are too scared of him to ask.

“I see you know him.” Her amusement crinkles her features, and she turns to Birdie to explain. “He’s a bit of a hard ass. But I like the pressure. It’s how I thrive.”

“You must have made one hell of a proposal for him to get onboard.”

“I did.” I swear that twinkle in her eyes is meant to tease and test me. “He and I talk about advertisements at the end of most of our meetings. It’s his geek button.”

And I bet she knows just how to push it.

Birdie stands from her spot, bowl empty. “Can I show Sofia my room now?”

“You may.”

Birdie turns to Sofia with the question in her eyes. Sofia holds her finger up, takes the last bite of her stew, and gathers their bowls to rinse in the sink before she lets Birdie lead her upstairs.

I clean the rest of the mess from dinner as their giggles waft down to me.

It has me closing my eyes and letting the slight pleasure take over. Two years I’ve been struggling to be both dad and mom to Birdie after her mom ran off. And here Sofia is, sweet, smart, strong, sure of herself. The kind of mom I wish Birdie had.

The kind of woman I miss having in my life.

I sigh, pulling myself back out of my fantasies. They’re not something I can dwell in without corrupting the reality of this situation. Sofia is the perfect sitter for Birdie.

Exactly what she needs.

What we need.

It’s nearly three-quarters of an hour before Sofia descends the stairs. The pride is evident on her face when she turns to where I’m leaning against the counter by the sink, still stuck in place even though everything’s put away and clean.

Too many thoughts have rampaged through me to have gotten me far.

“She is brilliant.”

“I agree.” Now that I’m looking at Sofia, it’s hard to tear my gaze away again. She practically glows. Vibrant.

“You’ve done a good job with her.” The best compliment a parent can receive.

“I can’t take credit. She’s a good kid.”

The silence between us isn’t awkward, but tension trails down my spine as those thoughts I’ve been forcing away start to creep back. The way she bites her pouty lower lip doesn’t help.

I clear my throat. “Did you need a ride home?”

“No. That’s okay. Dad will be here in the next ten minutes.”

That’s right. Her dad. Your best friend. You fucking pig.