stopped in front of her car and looked down at her daughter. Really looked, deeply. “Do you, sweetie?”
Lily nodded again, her large, gray eyes bursting with wishes and wants.
The windows to the soul really were just that, and Ava wondered if someone looked deeply enough into her eyes would they see that she wasn’t happy in New York, either. That it wasn’t her home and never would be.
She turned away from her daughter and unlocked the car door. In just a few weeks they had to go back to New York whether they wanted to or not. They’d made a life there, some semblance of a home. Heck, she had a great job and clients who depended on her. She didn’t really belong here.
“That old man’s staring, Mommy.”
Lily’s words pulled Ava out of the fog that held her mind captive and she glanced up. For a moment she could only stare back at the old man across the street that Lily was pointing to, her pulse racing. She hadn’t seen him in four years, but it felt like longer. He hadn’t changed much, but the lines etched in his face were deep and weighty. She cursed herself for wondering what made him look so unhappy—for caring at all after what he’d put her through.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?”
Ava gripped her daughter’s hand, feeling excessively protective. “Nothing, Lil. Let’s go.”
Let’s get out of here before I say something or he says something or—
“Ava?”
Too late.
She stopped where she stood—trying to urge her daughter into the car—and turned to face him. “Hello, Dad.”
Family, and friends of the family, had always kidded with Ben and Olivia Thompson that neither one of their daughters looked anything like either one of them. Two blond kids born to two brunette parents. Ava was certain that she’d inherited a few of her mother’s features, but none of her father’s. Not until today anyway. There it was, plain as day. Not a feature exactly, but an expression—one he’d never worn before—and it surprised her. Doubt and hesitance. She’d seen that very same look a thousand times in the mirror.
He gave her a tentative smile. “You’re home.”
She only nodded. Her throat felt constricted.
“It’s good to see you.” He dropped his gaze to the little girl at her side. “Is this Lily?”
Ava nodded, gripping her daughter’s hand. “Yes.”
Please don’t say anything cruel, she begged silently as she watched him lower onto one knee in front of Lily, his body making all those crunches and cracks that came with age.
“Hi, there,” he said.
“Hi.” Lily moved closer to Ava. “Who are you?”
Ava held her breath, her hand fisting around the car keys.
“I’m your grandpa.”
Lily smiled and gave him a nonchalant shrug. “Okay.”
Relief spread like a warm blanket over and through Ava, but it was swiftly replaced by fear. Fear of her daughter knowing her grandfather and someday being rejected by him. When love was tossed aside in favor of pride, people got hurt. Very hurt. She didn’t trust the man making nice to her daughter.
“It’s my birthday,” Lily was telling him, holding up six fingers. “In this many months.”
He smiled. “I know.”
She giggled. “You do?”
Of course he did. A time that, to Ben Thompson, would most assuredly live in infamy. Next he’d be asking her what she’d like for a present, Ava thought as she tugged on her daughter’s hand. “We have to go, Dad. We’re expected somewhere.”
“I get to see the horsies at Jared’s house,” Lily supplied. “Do you know Jared?”
Ben Thompson came to his feet, the lines around his mouth tightening. “I do.”
Ava turned away, darkness surging through her. He hadn’t changed at all. He was still a sad old bigot. What was she thinking standing here? It was as if she was waiting to be hurt by him again. She opened the back door. “Get in the car, Lil.”
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