Page 13 of Griffin

Melody gives Ivy a secret smile, then turns back to me.

“It’s Pup! Ivy gave him to me.”

I stare at Ivy, wondering what possessed her to give away something so important to her, but Ivy’s eyes shine with adoration as Melody carries Pup to the table.

“Are there tomatoes in this?” Melody licks her lips in what I’ve come to realize is nervousness. “I don’t like them.” Melody scratches her neck so hard she leaves marks, but I shake my head.

“It’s a tomato sauce, baby, but no whole tomatoes.”

Melody nods, releasing a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, Daddy.”

Melody doesn’t wait for us to join her; she tucks in, eating like she’s never been fed.

I give Ivy an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I guess she’s hungry. Don’t stand on ceremony; dig in.”

I pull a chair out for Ivy, and she gratefully smiles at me before inhaling the bowl’s scent.

“I love pasta. Especially with garlic bread. Thanks, Griffin.”

I nod, pretending I’m not feeling pleased as punch that I’ve made Ivy happy.

The girls talk about Pup, then the subject moves to Melody’s new school.

“How do you like your new school, Melody?” Ivy asks.

“I have to get up so early.” Melody frowns, jabbing at her pasta with her fork. “I don’t like it.”

Ivy raises her eyebrows at me, and I sigh.

I have to work early; it’s the nature of my job. So I’ve had to put Melody into a breakfast club and after-school club five times a week, meaning she has to get up early and go to bed even earlier. I’m just as wiped out as she is, and nine times out of ten, I fall asleep in my clothes. It’s hard work getting Melody’s clothes, breakfast, packed lunch, and dinner done, not to mention getting her to childcare on time.

But if she was still at her old school she’d be up even earlier.

I’m so tired I could fall asleep in my pasta.

“Oh no.” Ivy sends me a sympathetic look. “How early?”

I shift in my seat, feeling ashamed.

“She has to get up at six.”

Ivy doesn’t bat an eyelid, but I see the shock register in her eyes.

It’s early for a five-year-old girl. Especially one that’s just lost her mother.

“I’m driving her to childcare, then I have to get back to work … ” I shove a forkful of pasta in my mouth, so I don’t have to speak.

It sounds fucking awful because it is.

Ivy glances at Melody, who nods glumly.

“I didn’t leave that early at Mommy’s.”

Her face drops and Ivy reaches out to squeeze her hand.

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