Starlight (The Morgans of New York)
She shakes her head. “I’ll take the subway. I won’t fire myself if I’m a few minutes late.”
Reaching for her shoulders, I huff out a laugh. “I’ll call you.”
“I’ll answer,” she bounces back. “Thank you again for last night, Berk.”
I should be the one thanking her for last night and every moment since I first saw her playing her guitar in the subway station.
“Time to run.” She plants a kiss on my cheek. “Bye, Berk.”
Before she can sprint away, I curve my hand around the side of her neck and tilt her head to the left just a touch before I kiss her goodbye in a way that leaves us both breathless.
“I’m sorry, Berk.” Keats scrubs a hand over his forehead as I walk back into my home.
The look on his face can only be described as panicked amusement.
“For what?” I tease him while I glance around in search of my daughter.
“She’s upstairs,” he whispers. “You know for what. I had no fucking idea that Astrid would be here.”
Hearing him say her name so effortlessly sounds damn good. It also felt good to watch them interact after introducing them right before Astrid left.
They shook hands, and Keats asked about her store.
Her face lit up as she offered him an invitation to stop by. He told her he would make a point of bringing Maren and Weber there soon.
I pat my brother’s shoulder. “It’s fine.”
His green-eyed gaze scans my face. “Is it serious?”
Answering that isn’t easy. It’s new, but in some ways, my blossoming relationship with Astrid feels serious. It feels important in a way I can’t describe, so I don’t try.
“We agreed to only see each other,” I explain.
A smile coasts over his lips. “Holy shit, you’re going steady.”
Huffing out a laugh, I take a step back. “I suppose I am.”
Without any warning, Keats pulls me in for a bear hug. “I’m so damn happy right now. She’s good for you, Berk. She’s so damn good for you.”
“You owe two hundred dollars to our fund,” Stevie says from behind us. “You said the same bad word twice just now, Keats.”
We both turn to face her.
“I’ll pay,” Keats tells her. “What’s with the sneaking around? I didn’t hear you come down the stairs.”
Stevie points at the pink bunny slippers on her feet. “These are my stealth slippers. That’s what it said on the reviews online.”
No wonder she was so insistent on that particular style and brand of slippers.
“Daddy?” She steps toward me. “I think Astrid is good for us too.”
Us.
That one word is enough to lodge a lump of emotion in my throat.
I can’t let my daughter get attached to a woman this quickly, but I can pace this, so I protect her until I know exactly where things are headed between Astrid and me.
I drop to one knee and hold out my arms, coaxing her closer. She takes the hint and rushes to me.
“Astrid is a new friend,” I tell her softly. “We’re just getting to know each other.”
Her little hands leap to my cheeks. “I understand, Dad.”
I look into her eyes. “Good. What do you want to do today?”
Her fingers skim over the diary key hung on the delicate chain around her neck. “I need to write something in my diary. Then we should go buy Keats some new socks.”
“Hey, now.” My brother laughs. “I have socks.”
Stevie tosses him a look before her gaze settles back on me. “We should go buy Keats some nice socks. He’s a professional, Dad. He needs to look the part from the top of his head to his tiptoes.”
I laugh in unison with my brother. “Sock shopping it is. Then we’ll cook dinner for Keats, Auntie Maren, and Weber. Deal?”
She wraps her arms around my neck. “Done deal.”
Chapter Forty-One
Astrid
I wave as soon as I spot Eloise on the approach.
We haven’t had much time to connect lately.
She came to work for a few hours on Saturday afternoon, but I didn’t fill her in on any of the details of the night I spent with Berk.
She asked if I had fun, and I nodded in response.
Fortunately, three customers entered Vinyl Crush right after that, so we jumped into action.
The rest of the day was just as busy, and right before closing time, Eloise took off to meet up with her roommates for dinner.
Since then, she’s been laser focused on a knitting project for one of her online customers.
“I love the idea of going to a movie,” she says as soon as she’s close enough that she knows I’ll hear her.
Smiling, I raise a hand to lure her closer. “Remember when we used to go to the movies when we were kids?”
When we were children, Eloise and I weren’t as close as we are now, even though our dads are brothers.
My life was split between two states, so whenever I was in Manhattan with my mom, Eloise’s mom would make sure we had at least a few hours together.