Page 113 of Never Let You Go

Skye twines her arms around my neck and whispers in my ear, “It’s Daddy’s birthday today.”

My heart does a little flip, and I make a big O with my mouth. My mind is back in the present, in the best kind of way. I have Skye to thank for that, as often happens.

She’s a gift, one I have only for now.

“Don’t tell him I told you,” she continues whispering. “I know because Grandma Trish called on the video this morning. He doesn’t want a big fuss.”

Of course he wouldn’t. “Why not?” I whisper back.

She lifts and drops her shoulders dramatically. “I dunno.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe we can make a little fuss?” She takes a bite out of the first cookie, a maple shortbread, the crunch of her mouth matching the wheels turning in her head.

“You know what? I think that’s a great idea,” I say. “What did you have in mind?”

She sighs. “I dunno.” She glances toward the bakeshop, making sure Christopher doesn’t walk in on us, then dunks the cookie in her milk.

“Let’s see. What’s something he doesn’t have or doesn’t get to do?”

She shrugs again. “He doesn’t have breakfast with me.”

It hurts me that she misses him for those special moments.

“He doesn’t have breakfast at all,” she adds.

“That’s an idea. Why don’t we make him breakfast for dinner tonight?”

She perks up. “I love breakfast for dinner!" She whisper-shouts. “We do it all the time at Aunt Gracie’s.”

“It’s settled, then. Let me handle it.”

“I want to help.”

“Oh, you’ll help all right. You’ll set the table, and make him a card, and flip the pancakes.”

“Okay.” She slides off my lap, puts her glass in the sink, and gets on her tiptoes to open cabinets.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for pancake mix,” she stage-whispers.

“I have a recipe,” I say, my throat tightening. I haven’t used that recipe since before.

Before mom was gone.

But it’s time.

As I pull the notebook from the envelope in my room, a photo falls on the dresser. It’s a Polaroid of Mom and me—a selfie before cellphones. Our heads are tilted together, and we’re smiling big, crazy smiles. There’s a huge Christmas tree in the background.

My heart clenches at the memory.

Our last picture together.

I rub my eyes and try to steady my breath. I barely register a shuffling next to me and jump when I feel a brush against my hair.

“Are you okay?” Skye’s voice seeps through the ringing in my ears.

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