Page 131 of With a Cherry On Top

“Sadie,” I murmur, too stunned to say more.

She rubs her eyes with the heel of her palm. “I just wanted to show Monica and S-Selene, I-I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Oh, sweetheart.

I cup her cheek, guiding her face up so she has to look at me. Her big, watery eyes blink up at mine, her lip trembling. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Her fingers grip the ruined fabric like it might disappear if she lets go. “It was an accident,” she rushes out. “I didn’t mean?—”

“Hey, hey.” I stroke her hair again, keeping my voice steady. “I’m not mad, princess.”

Her face crumples, fresh tears spilling over. “But it’s ruined, and now I don’t have a dress for tomorrow.”

I pull her back against my chest, wrapping her up tight, and press my cheek to the top of her head. “That’s okay. We’ll find another dress.”

She cries harder, fisting my shirt. “I don’t want you to be mad.”

“I’m not mad at you, love. Never at you. How about we put this away now?”

“I won’t have a pretty dress for Mommy’s Day.”

She looks so fucking sad. I hope someone at school can explain what the hell happened, because I’ll be asking.

“Are you kidding?” I blow out a raspberry, hoping to coax even the smallest smile from her. “You’ve got plenty of beautiful dresses. The orange one with the flowers? Or—oh! The purple one with the big skirt? You know that’s my favorite.”

She shifts, her little shoulders sagging. “But they’re not new. I told Mom I’d wear anewdress.”

The breath I take is measured, because suddenly, I’m realizing this dress might be the least of my problems.

Does Sadie think Josie is coming to the recital? Is that why she was so excited to participate? I’d wondered if Sadie had brought it up to her mom during one of their phone calls, but Josie never said a word.Willshe come? She’s not in rehab anymore—she could. But after the way I talked to her...Fuck, did I just ruin every chance of her showing up?

When Sadie looks up at me, eyes wide and searching, I know I need to say something. Something to comfort her, to soften the blow.

But I can’t think of a single damn thing.

She sniffles. “I can wear the purple one. Don’t be sad, Daddy.”

I press my lips together to keep my frustration in check. What I really want to do is bury my face in my hands and scream into the void, but I can’t do that. Not in front of her.

Then it hits me.

“You know what?” I sit up straighter. “Daddy is going to fix this.”

“But the purple dress . . . the purple dress is okay.”

“No, it’s not,” I say gently, reaching for the ruined fabric she’s still clutching. “Becausethisis your dress. The one you were excited about. The one you picked out.” I press my thumb over a torn edge. “And I think we can save it.”

Her eyes widen. “We can?”

“Uh-huh. We’ll clean it, fix the rips, maybe even make itbetterthan before. Add some extra sparkles, a few bows—” I pause, lowering my voice like I’m letting her in on a secret. “Maybe even a little magic.”

She sniffles, but there’s the tiniest spark of hope in her eyes. “Magic?”

“Of course.” I grin. “We’ll make it good as new. Better than new. Because you see, Daddy knows someone who can make magic with clothes.”

“Like a fairy?” she asks, lips parted.

“Better than a fairy.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and hold it up. “Shall we call her?”