Starlight (The Morgans of New York)

Her hands drop to her hips. “You want to break the lock on my diary? All of my secrets are in there, Dad.”

This time the word Dad comes out with a bite.

“I need that key,” she insists. “Please. I wrote about Mommy in there, and you, and Dallas, and…”

“Dallas?” I interrupt. “The city in Texas?”

“Dallas is a person.”

Tilting my head, I narrow my eyes. “Who is Dallas?”

“Don’t ask me about him.” She shakes her head. “He’s in my class.”

I scrub a hand over my forehead. I want to know everything there is to about this Dallas kid, but I have one goal at the moment, and that’s having my daughter at school by the time the first bell rings.

“I’ll find the key,” I say, hoping I can make that a reality.

“Promise?” Her pinkie pops into the air.

I bend down to kiss it and her nose. “I’ll do my best.”

Her bottom lip trembles as she reaches for the front of my shirt. She fists the fabric in her hands. “Please do better than your best. If we don’t find the key, my heart will be locked in the diary forever.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to find that key and get it back to you, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” she whispers as she rests her cheek against mine. “You’re the best dad in the world.”

Chapter Three

Berk

“Fuck.” The muted curse drops from my lips as I exit the train at the same subway station I did yesterday

I think I’ve solved the riddle of where the missing diary key is.

I must have dropped it into the guitar case of the busker who sang a sweet rendition of Happy Birthday to a guy named Lester yesterday.

Today, she’s nowhere in sight.

In her spot is a bald guy with a voice that isn’t in the same league as the pretty blonde I stopped to listen to yesterday.

Normally, I wouldn’t be at this stop, but I met up with my cousin before I started work yesterday, so I got off the train here and was greeted by the sound of a beautiful voice.

When she finished her birthday serenade, I tossed what little change I had in my pocket in her guitar case.

She must have the key.

I approach the bald guy humming his way through the melody of a song I don’t recognize.

I stand patiently nearby while he screeches out some lyrics before he stops abruptly.

I dig my hand into my front pocket because I’ll give him something for the effort. He deserves that much.

I come up empty save for two quarters.

Guilt trails my hand as I drop those in his guitar case.

He tosses me a look. “That’s it?”

I need his help, so I tug my wallet out of the inner pocket of my suit jacket and yank out a few bills. They drift down to land on the change in his case.

That earns me a smile. “Thanks, man. I’m saving up for singing lessons.”

That’s almost enough to tempt me to empty my wallet for him because the lessons will serve him well if this is his life goal.

“Can I ask you something?” I button my suit jacket.

He gives me the once-over. “Sure, suit. What is it?”

I’m far from a guy who lives his life in a suit. I usually venture to the office in jeans and a button-down shirt or a sweater, but I’ve got a meeting today with the agent of an author I want to sign, so I need to look the part of the publishing magnate.

“A woman was busking here yesterday.” I point at the concrete beneath our feet. “Blonde, pretty, great voice.”

“Better than me?”

Jesus. Seriously?

I skirt around that. “I need to find her. I think she has something that belongs to me. I’d appreciate it if you could tell me anything about her.”

He shrugs off my plea. “I can’t help. Today is my first day here.”

“Dammit,” I let that out with a heavy exhale.

“If she’s a regular, someone else might know her.” He glances around at all the morning commuters. “Start asking.”

That might be vaguely appealing if I had all day, but I need to be at my office within the hour for this meeting.

I turn to walk away, and by chance, I spot a doorman’s uniform. It’s a long shot, but I approach the back of the man wearing it.

I tap him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir?”

That turns him right around. “Yes?”

I smile at the grin on his face because it’s the guy. It’s Lester, the man who was serenaded in this spot by the woman I need to find.

There’s probably a snowball’s chance in hell that he’ll have the information I need, but I have nothing to lose. “I was here around this time yesterday. I couldn’t help but notice that it was a special day for you.”

He straightens his shoulders. “It was my birthday.”