Page 10 of Sunshine

“Outlandish?” I question with a smirk. Will I ever get used to a five-year-old with a better vocabulary than me?

“Yes,outlandish.” Her little hands land on her hips as she looks into the mirror.

“Outlandish is kind of the point of Halloween, gumdrop.”

She cocks her head, still examining herself. “Good point, Daddy.”

I shake my head and hand my five-year-old her fairy wand. “You kill me, kid. Maybe the fairy dust is a bit much though.” I look around my apartment and at Lulah, who’s been assisting Reece with her costume. Everything, including my very pregnant friend, is covered in glitter.And this is just the dry run since it’s still only September. Reece insisted though, wanting everything to be perfect.

“Everything is more superb with glitter, Daddy.”

That word—not superb, but Daddy—hits me right in the feels. Every. Damn. Time.

This little angel is mine. I reach out and brush my hand down her silky red curls and smile at her through the mirror.

“You’re right, precious. I’m a fool for thinking otherwise.”

She cocks her head, spins on her fairy shoes and looks sincerely at me. “You’re not a fool, Daddy. You’re the best.” She lunges at me, wrapping her little arms around my legs. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll be here on the weekend. Six sleeps from tonight. I’ll pick you up Saturday morning and we’ll go for breakfast.”

“Can we have chickens at our new house, Daddy?” It’s one of her many random questions.

“Uh, chickens?”

“Yes, you said it was a farm before.”

“I believe I said it was on former farmland. There’s a little bit of a difference. But I think there are chickens at the little cottage beside us. How about we ask if you can go see them, maybe help collect the eggs or something.”

She nods, holding up a finger. “See how much work they are first.” She wrinkles her freckled nose. “And if they’re smelly.” She giggles and my chest rushes with warmth. “Good plan, Daddy.”

I’ll give her chickens if she wants them, I’ll give her anything.

Chapter Three

Tess

I blink at the cottage, the weight of my bags suddenly forgotten. Once fitting for a storybook—a cute one with a grandmotherly mouse who wears a long braid and a frilly apron over her tie-dyed tee, and Birkenstocks— my grandmother’s home now stands in ruins…shambles? Disarray?

Huh.

The once storybook farm cottage stands in…dishevelment?

Ruins was better.

I sigh. The puzzle piece click I used to feel when finding just the right word is a distant memory.If muses are real, mine’s on sabbatical. At least I hope it’s just a sabbatical and not retirement.

“And you’re stalling, Tess,” I say to myself, taking the stairs up to the porch.“The cabis halfway down the road by now, you have no choice.”

The cottage no longer looks as if my Gran will pop out, her nose dusted with baking flour, her cheeks rosy and her eyes just a bit glassy from drink.

Dropping my bag at the door, I swipe the blur from my eyes and turn away, taking just another moment before I face the inside.

At least the view is still amazing.

The sun, low in the sky, leaves a smear of orange across the ocean right to the red sandy shore. Breathing in the briny air, I watch the dancing grass fields and let the breeze twirl around me, tossing my hair as if inspecting me after my long absence.

I’ve missed it here. I should have come back sooner.I should have handed Gary everything and come home the moment Gran sounded off instead of waiting until the social worker called—until the cancer had spread and put her in hospice.