Page 40 of Never Let You Go

He pulls his hand away softly and flicks his fingers. “You had a breadcrumb,” he says, and before I can analyze what happened, he’s gone, and I don’t see him until dinner that night.

The kitchen is empty when I walk into it, but the table is set for four. After a minute, Skye runs in alone. “We’re having galettes tonight!” she says, grabbing my hands and pulling me in a little happy dance. “Have you ever been the queen?” she asks, letting go of me.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I confess.

“It’s okay,” she says, nodding like it’s not the first time she’s heard that. “It’s from Paris. My daddy lived there, that’s why we do it. He bakes the Best. Cake. In. The. World, and hides a bean in it. If you get the bean, then you’re the queen. You get a crown,” she says, showing me two cardboard crowns set on the table, “and then you get to choose your king.” She sighs dramatically. “I hope I’ll be the queen.”

“Who will be your king?”

She rounds her eyes at me. “Daddy!” Then, seeming to understand, she adds, “You have to choose someone around the table. I s’pose if you got the bean, you could choose me as your other queen. That works too.”

“Oh, good,” I say. “I will do that—if I get the bean.”

She squints at the table. “It looks like Aunt Grace is coming. Yay!” Right on cue, the doorbell chimes and seconds later, Grace comes in carrying a dish wrapped in foil.

“Hi, Alex,” she says. “Can you open the oven for me?”

My phone startles me, buzzing in my back pocket. Voldemort. I send it to voice mail and open the oven.

“Where’s your dad?” Grace asks Skye as she sets the oven temperature, then takes her coat off.

“I’ll go get him,” Skye cries out and darts upstairs.

“What’s up with him? Why isn’t he here?” she asks me.

“I-I don’t know. I haven’t seen him all afternoon.”

Grace adds serving utensils to the table. “Huh. He told me to come over for his galette. Mom made three dishes of lasagna yesterday, dropped one off at my place, so I told him I’d bring it. Grab us some wine, I’ll make a salad.”

I hesitate. “White? Red?”

“Whatever you’d like. Red sounds good, and then we can have a hard cider from the fermentory with the galette. Speaking of wine, are you free this Thursday night?”

“My social calendar is wide open.”

“Good. I’ll take you to Game Night. Us girls just get together, drink wine, and come up with our own versions of board games. It’s fun.”

“Sounds nice. What time and where?”

“I’ll pick you up here at five. We’ll walk to Cassandra’s. She’s having it in the back of her store. It’s the most adorable space,” she says.

“Corrupting my staff already?” Christopher groans, startling us. “Smells good in here.” He pecks Grace on the cheek and places a variety of dinner rolls in the oven. “Thanks for the lasagna. My favorite.”

“You can thank your aunt.”

“I will.”

“Skye, hands?” Christopher asks, ruffling his daughter’s hair.

“S-craped them s-queaky clean!” She smacks her lips and rubs her hands.

“Good job, Skye!” Grace says. Skye smiles, clearly proud. She seems to look for words difficult for her to pronounce. Seeing her seeking this challenge is both heartwarming and inspiring to me.

I cast a side glance at Christopher. He, too, picked up on his daughter’s efforts. Of course he did. He tries to hide his pride, but it’s hard to miss. It’s in his eyes and in his smile.

He winks at Grace. “She’s doing great, isn’t she?” he says softly, earning a hug from Skye. I feel like an intruder and try to disappear in the background, but just end up being moved to the core by the love emanating from them.

“Of course she is,” Grace says as she sets the heavy dish of lasagna on the table. “Alex, can you grab the salad?” she adds, making me instantly grateful that she also caught my unease and included me. “And, Chris, the bread please. Let’s eat!”

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