Surly Romance (Billionaire Dads)

SUNNY

It’s four AM, and Kenya’s bridesmaid shoot is in two hours, but all I want to do is curl into a ball and sleep.

Selfish of me, I know.

Today is not about you, Sunny.

I poke Kenya gently. “Girl. Wake up.”

She pushes out her bottom lip in resistance. “Five more minutes.”

“Don’t blame me if you’re late for your own wedding,” I mumble.

Her eyes burst open and she shoots to a sitting position. In the darkness, her brown skin fades into the shadows, but the whites of her eyes are clearly visible as she freaks out. “I’m getting married today.”

“Did no one tell you?” I pretend to gasp.

She laughs and throws her arms around my neck. Her bonnet—a big orange mushroom that was a gift from Alistair—flounces. “Sunny, I’m getting married today.”

“Yup.” I pat her back.

I’m the world’s worst best friend. It’s Kenya’s big day and I can’t even fake a smile for her. Thankfully, her chin is dipped into my shoulder and she’s not staring at my face. If she was, I’m pretty sure she’d jump back in horror and ask me who died.

The answer, of course, would be me. I died somewhere between Darrel claiming every inch of my body and him proposing out of the blue.

It’s not about you today, Sunny.

By the time Kenya pulls back and grins at me, I’ve got my facial muscles under control. “I’m excited.”

Her grin slowly fades. She blinks a couple times and peers at me like she’s trying to figure something out.

“What?” I cup my face. “Are you disappointed you won’t be seeing my beautiful mug when you wake up in the morning?”

“Are you okay?”

“Why would I not be okay? My best friend is getting married. I’m ecstatic.”

That much is true. I’m over the moon for her. She and Alistair belong together. Kenya’s the only person on the planet who can bring the bossy CEO down to the real world and Alistair is so invested in Kenya’s happiness that he’d tear down anyone standing in her way.

“Hm.”

“It’s going to be a great day.” I stretch my arms over my head and hope that my nervous chuckle distracts her.

“I can’t see your eyes.”

“It’s dim in here.” I continue to avoid her gaze.

“But I feel like your vibe is off.”

“My vibe is protesting waking up at this obscene hour. Even the birds know no one should be up this early.” I give an exaggerated yawn to prove my point. “The only person who wakes up chipper in the morning is you.”

She sighs in frustration. “You’d tell me if something were wrong, wouldn’t you?”

“Girl, re-lax. You have a hundred activities on your agenda today and not one of them is stressing about me and my imaginary problems.”

Kenya hefts a manicured finger. “So you’re admitting that there’s a problem.”

Darrel asked me to marry him. Not because he loves me. Because all he wants is custody of the kids and I’m the most convenient way to meet that goal. “Nope. No problems here.”

Lying is bad. I learned that at the tender age of four when I stole a Belizean-style powder bun from my mom’s baking basket and got a swift clap to the knuckles with a half-burned rubber spatula. However, I do believe there are times when the truth is more damaging than helpful. And this is one of those moments.

“Girl, stop looking at me like that.” I force another laugh past my trembling lips. “Are you sure you’re picking up weird vibes from me? What if you’re the one having cold feet?”

“Not a chance.” She raises her chin.

“How do you know?”

“I couldn’t imagine not marrying Alistair. Without me, he’d just go out and terrorize the world. You could even say I’m doing humanity a favor.”

My lips twitch. “You really love him, don’t you?”

“I never thought I’d find someone who would love me unconditionally. I never thought that kind of love existed. Alistair shows me that it does. Every day.”

Her expression smoothes out and the excitement returns to her eyes.

My heart breathes a sigh of relief.

I love giddy Kenya.

Giddy Kenya is so much fun.

“Come on, you dork. Let’s enjoy your last day of freedom with some breakfast.”

“Fry jacks?”

“Girl, please. Did you think I’d serve anything else?”

“Let me brush my teeth first.”

“Go on. I’ll get started.” I climb out of bed and pad into the hallway, stopping short when I get to the kitchen. The memory of Darrel pressing me into the counter barrels through my mind.

I can still feel the slight bruise at the small of my back. I can trace the tiny indents where his fingers dug into my thighs as he spread my legs apart.

My heart quivers and bawls out for him. I grab tape and gag that particular organ so it stays quiet.

I’m angry.

I’m hurt.

I won’t let Darrel take over this moment. I won’t lament on the things I can’t change. Today is not about me and my relationship problems. It is one hundred percent going to be the best day for Kenya. She deserves it and more.

I put my all into the fry jacks. Then I play loud soca music while I help Kenya pack her suitcase for the honeymoon. We end up bumping and grinding on invisible dance partners as an energetic soca artist bawls out, “Wave yuh flag! Wave yuh flag!”

We sweat so much after our impromptu dance party that we have to collapse on the sofa, bring the standing fan close enough to kiss our faces and cool down.

It’s in that quiet moment that my phone buzzes with a new message.

My heart lifts to my throat, thinking it’s Darrel.

It’s not.

Mom: Tell Kenya I love her and I’m sorry I won’t be able to attend her wedding, but I wish her the best.

I pat my best friend on the side. “Hey, my mom sent this.”

She takes the phone from me. Her fingers skim the screen and a slow smile crawls over her face. “Aw. Tell her thanks.”

“I will.” I accept the phone from her.

“Oh, I meant to ask you, Sunny.” Kenya stakes her elbow in the chair and rests her chin on her fist. Eyelashes flapping, she studies me. “Did you tell your mom about you and Darrel?”

“I didn’t tell her. It’s more like, uh, she found out.”

“Did she find out the way I did?” Her eyes balloon in horror as if she’s getting flashbacks of Darrel kissing me in the couch.

I sputter. “Ugh. No. Goodness no. She found him crawling behind my sofa and tried to kill him. That’s how they met.”

“What?” Her jaw drops.

“Nothing.” I shake my head and flop back into the sofa. Talking about Darrel is painful right now.

“Hey, don’t be upset.” My best friend crawls closer to me and squeezes my shoulder. “Your mom wants you to marry a Mayan guy, but I don’t think it’s only because she wants you to produce babies for the culture. I think she wants you to be with a man who understands you and appreciates you for who you are and all you’ve been through as an immigrant and a Mayan person. In her mind, only a guy from your culture can connect with you on that level.” Kenya smiles. “Some of my friends had the same concerns when I got with Alistair.”

“You never told me that.”

“Because their opinions weren’t valid enough for me to share.” She shrugs. “The point is, Darrel is someone who’ll appreciate you, be faithful to you, and protect you for the rest of your life. When your mom sees that, she’ll accept him.”

I swallow hard, take a deep breath to stop myself from crying and then pop out of the chair. “What are we doing lounging around here? We need to get you to that hotel. We told the bridesmaids to be there at six. The glam squad should have set up by now too.” I check my watch. “We need to go.”

Kenya stares at me as if she’s trying to figure out if I’m brushing her off for a deeper reason.

“Hello? We don’t have time to stare.” I grab her hands and tug her out of the chair. “Let’s go. Let’s go.” Hands on her back, I usher her into the bathroom so she can shower.

The moment the door slams shut, I press a hand to my chest. My heart is expanding painfully, obsessing over Darrel, cringing at the memory of his contract-like proposal, and rehashing our argument.

I waffle between missing him and hating him. How could he think popping the question in bed was a good idea? How could he just admit that it was a suggestion from Max Stinton, of all people? Why did he think marrying me was the only way to keep the kids?

He doesn’t really love you.

The thought hits hard and fast. Maybe mom was right. Maybe this is Darrel’s complicated revenge plot coming into effect. Or maybe he didn’t have feelings for me from the start.

I mentally trace the timeline of our relationship. Darrel spent over a year of our acquaintance growling at me and looking absolutely annoyed whenever I came around. The moment Ms. Jean died and the kids came to live with him, he softened up to me. Was it because he saw me as the love of his life or because he saw how much I loved Micheal and Bailey and thought he could use that to his advantage?

I wrap my arms around my knees. My thoughts are going in circles. I push myself off the ground and re-fold Kenya’s clothes for the honeymoon. She was so excited, she just shoved them into her suitcase. We’ll have to sit on that thing if we want the zipper to go around.

I’m almost finished folding the last of her dresses when Kenya pops out of the bathroom, fresh-faced and smiling. Her brown skin glistens and I finally understand why the phrase ‘blushing bride’ exists. Kenya’s skin might be too dark to show the red flush of excitement, but anticipation is practically glowing from her skin.

“Whoa. You folded my clothes for me?” She prances to the suitcase and peers in.

“Gotta get my practice in since I might be packing my own bags soon.”

“Practice?” She tears her shower cap off her head and tight curls spring out in all their voluminous glory. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I got a job offer to design a villa in Belize,” I tell her. Marching across the room, I grab my towel and body gel.

“And you’re going?” Kenya sounds bewildered.

“I haven’t decided yet.” I give her a small smile over my shoulder. “But I’m thinking of saying yes.”

Kenya leans forward as if she wants to discuss it more, but I hurry into the bathroom.

The client was very clear about the deadline. I have to tell her whether I’ll take the job in Belize or not by the end of the day. If I don’t make a choice, the opportunity will be taken away from me.

I turn the water on and sink to the ground. The thought of leaving the boys now, when their custody is up in the air, wrenches my chest. Abandoning them would tear my soul to little pieces. But how do I face Darrel when I know he’s only with me so he can keep the kids?

The water falling down my cheeks is definitely from the shower. Not a single drop comes from my eyes. I dry myself off a few minutes later and venture out into the bedroom.

I half-expect Kenya to pounce on me, but I’m saved from her questions and prying brown eyes when she rushes into the room with a smile.

“Bernard is in a limo downstairs.”

I laugh. “He is not. Does Bernard know how to drive a limo?”

“I have no idea.”

We both run to the window and peer at the parking lot where Alistair’s beloved chauffeur is leaning against a white stretch limo.

“The excess.” I roll my eyes.

Kenya’s widening grin is enough for me to stuff my more sarcastic remarks deep down and just enjoy the moment with her.

We gather everything we packed for the day and greet Bernard downstairs. His eyes tear up when he sees Kenya and I step back, giving them a moment to hug each other.

Finally, he looks at me and nods.

I wiggle my fingers. “Bernard.”

“Ms. Sunny.” His eyes crinkle in welcome. “I brought along my nephew.” He gestures to a gangly boy. “Alistair wondered if you would prefer to drive back as it will be hard to get a cab after the reception.”

“Oh, I would love that.” My eyebrows rise in awe. No wonder Alistair is so wealthy. He really thinks of everything.

I hand my car keys over to Bernard who tosses it to his nephew.

“Come on!” Kenya giggles and drags me into the limo.

We drink champagne and take selfies and marvel at all the amenities in the limo. As we inspect the car further, Kenya finds a love letter from Alistair. She cackles when she reads it and I, being the nosy best friend that I am, launch over her shoulder to find out what’s so funny.

I scrunch my nose. “‘To Ms. Jones. From Alistair. Subject: Wedding Assignment. The heck? Why’d he print out an email?”

“Because he’s insane.” My best friend doesn’t look like she’s complaining though. She squeezes the letter tight and lets out a sigh. “Can this day hurry up already? I want to walk down the aisle.”

I feel another pinch in my heart when I see her smiling and happy. Alistair is sending love letters and I can’t even get a text.

You told him not to contact you, Sunny. What did you expect?

The little voice in my head is right, but that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.

We get to the hotel and meet up with all the bridesmaids. What happens next is a lot of squealing, hugging and ugly-crying—mostly from Kenya. However, everyone tears up in the next hour when Kenya tries on her dress.

It’s a gorgeous and sophisticated creation with diamonds and lace and everything a queen like Kenya deserves. The makeup guy has to touch up my face three times because every time I think I have my composure together, I realize that I don’t.

“Let’s get a photo with the groomsmen’s first look at the bride,” the photographer announces.

I stiffen immediately. My feet don’t want to move, but I’m carried away by the crowd as all the women march outside to greet the men.

Alistair’s groomsmen are wearing sharp tuxes. They’re all tall, broad-shouldered and sexy—which explains all the twittering from the bridesmaids. But my eyes go straight to the man in the middle of the line.

Darrel’s green eyes collide with mine too. My heart jumps to my throat and I quickly avert my gaze, although I can’t seem to focus on anything but him.

The tux hugs his shoulders like a second skin. His hair is brushed back and away from his stunning face. Jawline sharp and lips firm, he looks like a prince from a fairytale.

Don’t let him mess with your head, Sunny.

I avert my eyes and start to stomp past him when the wedding planner sprints toward us. It’s time to line up for the wedding march.

A hand darts out and wraps around my wrist.

It’s Darrel.

I know because my heart is telling me even before I’ve turned around.

“Sunny.” His eyes are on me. They’re intoxicating and beautiful and so, so sad.

Don’t let him mess with you. I steel myself against those eyes and settle my fingers in the crook of his elbow.

What’s worse than realizing a man only wants you so he can use you? It’s walking down the aisle with that man and pretending everything is totally fine.

Newsflash: it’s not.

None of this is fine. Not Darrel constantly sending me those longing looks. Not Micheal and Bailey, sitting in the front row with their curly hair and somber expressions more fit for a funeral than a wedding, and not my own conflicted heart that wants to stay and wants to leave at the same time.

I don’t know how we get through the dance at the reception later because holding Darrel’s hand makes my mind go blank. To my surprise, he doesn’t step on my feet once. Has he been practicing? I have no idea.

I don’t know anything anymore.

As soon as the music ends, I release his hand and clap for Kenya and Alistair.

Alistair looks dapper with his hair combed back, his fancy tux, and his giant smile. I notice that his usually intense hazel eyes go soft whenever he gazes in Kenya’s direction.

My best friend is beaming. Her hand is always reaching for Alistair, his shoulder, his back, his fingers. They can’t seem to get enough of each other.

Their happiness only emphasizes my misery. I would have loved to share a moment like that with Darrel in the future. I would have loved if he asked me to marry him because he loves me and can’t live without me.

But that wasn’t the reason…

Don’t think about it.

The best part of the reception is that Darrel keeps his distance. He’s standing on the opposite end of the room, a hand in his pocket. He looks sexy and broody and it’s catnip for all the girls at the wedding. I’ve seen no less than four women ask him to dance.

Not that I’m counting.

Darrel turns them down every time.

I pretend not to notice that either.

“Sunny!” a boyish voice calls.

I whip my head around, my mood lifting all the way up when I see Micheal and Bailey trotting toward me.

Bailey is holding a plate and balancing a tower of cake on top of it. The crumbs on his face tell me this is not the first time he’s dipped around the dessert table.

I laugh and brush the crumbs away. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yes!” His cheerful energy makes me smile. Genuinely this time.

Micheal shuffles toward us. His sullen expression is in such direct contrast to his brother that I can’t help but squeeze his shoulder. “You okay, bud?”

“Is it true that Mr. Darrel wants to get rid of us?” Micheal whispers.

“What?” Annoyance claws at my skin. “Is that what Ms. Bennet said?”

Micheal just shrugs.

I crouch to his level and speak earnestly, “Micheal, Darrel is doing everything he possibly can to keep you two.” Even proposing marriage to me out of sheer necessity. “I don’t know what will happen and where you two will end up, but I do know this. Darrel won’t stop fighting until you two are where you belong.” I glance between both of them. “With him.”

“What about you?” Bailey asks.

My eyes jerk to the little boy.

“Are you coming to stay with us too?”

A ball of guilt lodges in my throat.

You have forty-eight hours to decide.

“I…” My lips are numb.

Are you going to give up this amazing opportunity?

“Boys…” I gather them close.

Bailey wraps his little arms around me.

Micheal doesn’t hug me back, but he doesn’t step out of my arms either.

Tell me if you’ll leave us. It was the first thing the boys asked me to do.

I force the words out. “I might be taking a job far away.”

Micheal’s eyes widen.

Bailey’s glasses slide down his nose. “Where?”

“Um… it’s an island off Ambergis Caye… in Belize.”

“Belize? Isn’t that where you’re from?” Micheal points out.

“I haven’t said yes yet.” The words pooling in my brain aren’t getting out of my mouth fast enough. “But I want you to be prepared if—”

“Don’t go, Sunny.” Bailey’s bottom lip trembles.

“Forget it.” Micheal grabs his little brother’s hand. “She’s going to leave anyway.”

“Wait, Micheal…”

“Come on.” He tugs Bailey past me and they both disappear into the crowd.

I run a hand through my hair and lean against the table. I feel like a turd. Not even the human kind. The dog kind. No, worse than that. A turd that came out of a dog, then got licked up by another dog and then got vomited out. That kind.

Kenya’s laughter trails the air. She’s having a fairytale night and I love that for her. I really, really do. But I can’t be here anymore.

I turn on my heels and stalk to the parking lot. I’m extremely grateful Alistair suggested I bring my car to the wedding because I cannot fathom having to wait for a taxi right now.

Footsteps kick loose earth and grass behind me. I tense, wondering if it’s Darrel that followed me out.

When I turn, I realize that it’s not.

“You’re…” I stare at the teenager, trying to place him. “You’re Bernard’s nephew, right?”

“Yeah. Hey, sorry to bother you, but are you planning on driving right now?”

“I didn’t drink.” Too much. I’m not tipsy or anywhere close to drunk.

“No, it’s not that.” He rubs the back of his neck. “My uncle told me not to tell you until the mechanic came but…”

My eyes narrow. “Did you crash my car?”

“I didn’t. I swear. Your car lurched while I was driving and—”

“Oh.” I release a breath. “It always does that.” I had to sell my luxury vehicle to hold myself over while I established my interior design business. The clunker I replaced it with gets me from Point A to Point B and it has more than enough space to carry some furniture. I don’t have any complaints.

“We were worried about it. Uncle said your car could shut down at any point. He called a mechanic he knew.”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” I smile at him, but I’m certain it looks more like a grimace because he recoils. “I’ve got it.”

When I’m close to my car, I turn back and look at Kenya’s wedding. I hope she’s not too upset when she can’t find me later. I’ll send her a text wishing her a safe trip and an enjoyable honeymoon. Hopefully Alistair keeps her occupied so she doesn’t have time to worry about me.

At that moment, I spot Darrel stepping out of the reception hall. His head swivels back and forth as if he’s looking for me. I curse and swing around to my car. Panic makes my hands shake. I drop my keys twice before finally getting the door open.

Darrel spots me. His long legs close the distance between us as he makes a mad dash for the car. Heart slamming against my ribs, I crank my engine and slam my heel on the gas pedal, tearing out of the parking lot like I’m running from the cops.

Darrel gets smaller and smaller in the mirror until, finally, he disappears. I let out a deep breath. I made a successful getaway, but I feel no joy. What is there to celebrate? The kids’ lives are in utter turmoil and I stupidly told them I’d be leaving in the middle of it.

I’m an idiot. I don’t deserve to be in their lives. Maybe Darrel will figure that out too. Maybe he’ll find a young, hot nanny and marry her instead.

My head pounds and I press my foot harder on the gas. To my surprise, my car slows down when I want it to go turbo.

“Come on, come on.” I grip the steering wheel tighter and stomp the pedal to the floor.

The car coughs and then crawls to a stop.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I murmur.

Great. This is just great.

Since screaming in frustration won’t miraculously get my car to start, I reach for my phone and then stop when I realize I don’t have it. It’s in the hotel room where we spent most of the morning getting ready.

I smack my forehead against the window. What do I do now?

As if the heavens are taking pity on me, I notice a pair of taillights moving in my direction. The reception is being held at Alistair’s private estate and the road isn’t well travelled. I can’t miss this chance.

Popping out of the car, I wave my arms desperately while yelling ‘help’. The vehicle slows down and, in the faint moonlight streaming through the trees, I see the name of an auto repair company on the side. The driver’s door opens with a creak and a pair of boots drop to the ground.

“Thank you so much for stopping,” I say, stepping forward. “I was scared I would…” My words fade when I realize the driver is a woman. She’s petite too. Maybe even smaller than Kenya. Her hair is in a tight afro puff and her skin is a beautiful obsidian, like she was dipped in black ink and set out to dry to perfection.

“No problem,” she says. Her voice is light and melodic.

“Um…”

“I was called out for another job, so I don’t have a lot of time.” She pulls up the sleeves of her navy jumper and checks her watch. “But pop the hood. I’ll see what I can do to help.”

I blink rapidly.

She glances up, arches an eyebrow and gives me an exasperated look. “Lady, do you want help or not?”

“Yes. Help. Help is good. Thanks.” I scramble back into my car and pop the hood.

She sticks her head in.

I ease around to watch her. She reaches inside the truck like she actually understands what all the wires and nuts and bolts are for. I can’t help the way my jaw slackens in awe.

Finally, she straightens and faces me. “Looks like you’ve got a clogged fuel filter. Shouldn’t be too much to change it.”

“Oh.”

The woman watches me with sharp brown eyes.

I clear my throat. “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen many…”

“Female mechanics? I know.” She shuts my hood. “Unlike unicorns, we exist.”

“Right.” She has a sharp tongue and an appreciation for sarcasm. It makes me want to stick my hand out and ask if we can be friends.

Her phone rings before she can say more. She fishes it out of her pocket and answers. “Pierce speaking.” Her eyes scan the star-studded sky. “The car left the wedding already?” Her eyebrow arches in my direction. “Say, was the driver wearing a fancy dress, has straight hair and doesn’t know it’s rude to stare at people?”

My cheeks warm and I glance away.

“Right.” Pierce bobs her head. “Don’t worry. I think her car will be fine.” She stuffs her phone into the front of her jumper. “By any chance, are you Sunny?”

“Yes.” I peer at her. “You’re the mechanic they called to fix my car?”

“I’m filling in for Jenkins, but yeah. You can say that’s me.” She bobs her head. “I’m Dawn.”

“Dawn.” It’s such a feminine name and she’s got such a dainty and regal face. Those cheekbones and full lips and piercing eyes seem more suited to a model than a mechanic.

“Why’d you try to drive a car that wasn’t working?” Dawn asked.

“Huh?”

“The car.” She gestures to it. “I thought they told you it needed fixing. Why’d you still drive it?”

“Because I had to leave.” I lean against the vehicle and huff out a breath. “I’m not surprised this happened. Everything in my life is breaking down, so my car might as well do it too.”

She sets her toolbox on the side of the road. “Man trouble?”

“Maybe.” I tilt my head. “Is this what you do? Fix cars and listen to people talk about their troubles?”

“It helps to pass the time.”

I look at her and then I decide what the hell. She’s a stranger which means she can be objective and it’s not like I have anything to lose. Without missing a beat, I tell her everything about Darrel, the boys, and the job opportunity in Belize.

Dawn finishes with the fuel filter long before I’m finished vomiting up all my crap on her.

She dusts her hands and squints into the distance. “Sounds… complicated.”

“Which part? The part where the man I’m in love with just sees me as a way to gain favor in front of a judge? The part where I already love these kids so much that I can’t bear to leave them? The part where I got an amazing opportunity, but I’m hesitating about taking it because it would make me feel like a jerk?”

“Yes, yes and yes.”

I chuckle.

She smiles too and it makes her eyes sparkle. She looks ten years younger when she loosens up, which is probably why she goes for the prickly female mechanic act more than the smiley one. I don’t think men would take her seriously if she was always this warm.

“I can’t help you with the relationship part.” Her eyes float away from mine and I see a glint of darkness pass through them. “I’m horrible at picking the right guy. In fact, I tend to exclusively attract the jerks.” She clears her throat and tugs the collar of her jumpsuit away from her neck. “But I do know a little something about kids.”

“You have a kid?”

She nods. The smile that crosses her face this time is affectionate. “Seven years old. But sometimes, she acts like she’s older than I am.”

“I bet she’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, well, she was born out of not-so-beautiful circumstances. It was a one-night stand and her father wanted absolutely nothing to do with her. If that wasn’t bad enough, next thing I knew, guys in suits were knocking on my door asking me to sign contracts and get myself down to a clinic.” Her scowl is just as poisonous as an ancient Mayan dart. “Point is, my life changed the moment I decided to have her. The situation wasn’t the best, but I wouldn’t trade her for anything because she’s the best part of my life.” Dawn stares into my eyes. “She pushed me to go to school. She pushed me to fight for a better life. She pushes me every day. I made it because of her. My daughter is my strength, not my weakness.”

Her words move me to the pits of my soul.

“Your heart is with these kids. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be so conflicted. You can take that job in Belize and you’ll probably do great, but will it mean anything if your heart is somewhere else?”

“So I should say no?”

“I didn’t say that.” She lifts a dark finger. “I told you. I had the courage to fight for my dreams because of my daughter. I didn’t give up. It was hard. It was tough. I’m not going to lie to you. It would have been easier to let my dreams go. But I didn’t. Couldn’t. I wanted my daughter in my life and I wanted my dreams. I decided I’d have them both.”

“Both? Is that possible?”

“I don’t know.” She straightens and levels me a challenging stare. “You’re the one who decides that.”