Moving here to Cliff’s Edge had been exactly what we needed. A fresh start. Mia was thriving, loving the dynamics of a small town, the family we had found, and the new house. I loved the peacefulness and the chance to watch her grow surrounded by love.
The front door opened, and she rushed out, her dark hair a mass of tangles. Her feet were shoved into slippers, and her pajamas were covered in unicorns. Her face broke into a wide smile.
“Hi, Daddy!”
Laughing, I braced myself as she launched into my arms, the swing moving wildly. I pressed a kiss to her head.
“Hey, Sweet Pea. How’d you sleep?”
“So good. I love it here.”
I kissed her again, enjoying her weight on my lap. “Me too.”
“Are we going shopping?”
I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You are going shopping with Auntie Holly and your cousins. I’m working.”
She grinned, not at all bothered. She loved Holly.
“You don’t like shopping, do you, Daddy?”
“Only in small doses. Holly can help you with clothes and supplies better than I can.”
“What about groceries?”
“We only need a few things. I have to pick up a package at UPS, so I’ll grab what we need while I’m in town. Holly is taking you into Halifax so there’s a better selection.” I glanced at my watch. “You have about an hour until she gets here.”
“Will you do my hair?”
Of all the things I’d had to learn about being a single dad, that had been the most challenging. Hair. All I did with mine was wash it and let it dry. Let the barber trim it. Mia’s long, thick locks were a challenge, but she refused to let me have it cut. So, I studied YouTube videos, asked the women at Mia’s day care, and experimented over and over until I was proficient. I could French braid, twist, and upsweep with the best of them. Mia often did her own hair now, but I still liked it when she asked me.
“How do you want it?”
“Two braids.”
“Sure. Go have breakfast and get dressed, and I’ll do it.”
She kissed my cheek and scampered away. “Love you, Daddy!” she called as she headed inside.
I smiled at her words, my heart warm. I drained my cup and stood. I would instruct my lawyer to write Kelsey a refusal and tell him to include a paragraph about no further contact. Hopefully she would get the message and move on. I was sure there was someone out there as detached as she was that she could sink her claws into. I was done.
Then I headed inside.
I had braids to weave.
CHAPTER TWO
SIMON
I looked at the cart in front of me with a wry smile. So much for only needing a few things. I may have aced the hair thing over the years, but my meal planning and grocery shopping hadn’t improved that much. At least Mia had grown beyond chicken nuggets and fries. I swore that was all she ate for about three years. I kept our meals pretty simple. Grilled meat, salad, and whatever vegetables I could get into her was our usual. Luckily, she liked salad. That I could do. Mac and cheese was a staple too. Thank God for Holly. We went to their house a lot, and Mia ate well there. Holly often sent home leftovers, which was a godsend. And she was an awesome cook.
I looked around the cookie aisle, dismissing most of it. Mia and I both had a huge sweet tooth, but once we’d tasted Holly’s baking, nothing compared. Chips Ahoy now tasted like cardboard. We did still like the maple cookies, so I added a package. I grabbed the handle of the cart, waiting as the woman beside me perused the shelves. There was something familiar about her, and I studied her, my pulse picking up as I recognized Amy McNeil. She was a friend of Holly’s and had been at the last two barbecues they’d invited us to. She taught kindergarten at the school Mia would be attending, and we had chatted about the school and her classes. I found her intelligent and kind, with her gentle, raspy voice and warm personality. She was average height with golden blond hair that hung down her back and light blue eyes. She had a bohemian look with her layered skirt, scarf, and frilly blouse. Feminine and alluring. Pretty. She had a row of gold freckles across the bridge of her nose if I remembered correctly. It gave her a mischievous look.
I cleared my throat, and she turned her head, her lovely eyes widening when she saw me.
“Simon Fletcher,” she said, smiling.
My name coming from her mouth with the low rasp in her voice did something to my chest.
“Amy McNeil,” I replied. “Shopping for cookies? I took you for a home baker.”