Page 18 of Never Let You Go

I kiss her forehead, my heart swelling at the improvements in her speech.

I switch on her turtle night-light before turning off the other lights in her room, and glance at her while I pull the door halfway closed behind me. My heart fills my chest almost painfully.

My daughter is everything I live for. To say that I love her doesn’t begin to cover it. She’s my life, my blood, my heart, so small and fragile. I’m terrified every day and every night that something might happen to her while I’m not around to protect her.

“I’m sleeping, Daddy. You can go now.”

When I get back downstairs, Alexandra is wiping the table. The dishes are all done and put away, expect for our two glasses and what’s left of the wine.

I’ve never had a woman alone here, and I know I shouldn’t think about Alexandra like that, but I can’t help it. It feels too intimate, and I wish I hadn’t prompted her to stay up and wait for me. “You must be tired,” I try.

“No, I’m great!” she says as she hangs the dishtowel neatly on a bar handle. She plops her fists on her hips. “You wanted to ask me questions?” Her lips seal together in a thin, forced smile. Her breathing is uneven.

Shit.

She’s totally freaked out.

I rub the back of my neck. “Look, I’m sorry if Skye drilled you with questions.”

Her face softens and she brushes off my concern with a wave. “She’s the cutest. You must be so proud of her.”

“I try my best. I guess…” I gather my thoughts and pick up the bottle, a question in my eyes.

“Yeah, please,” she says and plops in her chair. She looks wound up.

I pour the wine. “I guess I’ve been trying to get her to open up about anything that bothers her, and it’s working a little too well.”

Alexandra chuckles, visibly relaxing. “I think it’s great. At least she’s clear about what’s on her mind. Let’s hope she stays that way growing up.”

“Yeah, she’s got time to figure out filters and shit.”

“Screw filters,” she says, and I nearly spill the wine, laughing.

“Screw filters,” I answer as we clink our glasses.

We let a few moments pass in silence, and it’s both awkward and so peaceful.

“So. Why do you want to become a baker?” I finally ask, breaking the spell.

She tucks her feet sideways under her thighs on the chair. “I work for Red Barn Baking. You heard of them?”

Fuck. Why am I surprised. They’re tied to the foundation that gave me my grant. Doesn’t mean I like them. “Tastes like shit, looks like cardboard. Yeah, I heard of them. Soulless big corp. Didn’t know they were interested in baking.” Now why would a girl like her work for these assholes?

Her eyes widen, and a small smile forms on her lips. “Screw filters, right?”

Forget her looks. I like her attitude. Damn. “What did you do there?” I don’t mention rumor has it the founder was from Vermont. Speak of a travesty.

“Well, I’m in digital marketing? That’s my thing. So, yeah. Here I am!” Her eyebrows wiggle, and she drops her gaze to her wine.

Marketing? What the fuck? “Did you ever work in their labs. In production.” Not sure that would be a good thing, frankly. I’d rather start from scratch, not have to deal with bad habits.

She hesitates, then says, “No, they wanted me to come here to have some experience with that.”

Again—what the fuck? Although, these guys can’t bake, so… “Figures.”

“I—I’m confused…” She frowns briefly. The thin crease that forms between her brows stays, a scar of her emotions.

“I asked you why you wanted to become a baker,” I say.

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