Page 90 of Wanting a Family Man

“Mom needed margarine so she gave me money for the store and said I could get a Popsicle. Do you want half? It’s green.”

“I love green. That’s nice of you to share.”

He wore a frown of concentration while he split it against the edge of the hatch, then proudly handed her one.

“Mom said you should come for dinner if you want to. It’s salmon patties and salad. Then Logan said I should tell you don’t work too late ’cause Uncle Reid will chew his butt if he has to pay you overtime.”

She took the Popsicle out of her mouth. “This isn’t my dinner?”

“Heh. It’s green. Must be salad.”

“Right?” They shared a grin. “Salmon patties sound great, thanks. I’ll finish up and come over after I shower.”

Then, because she could read between the lines when it came to a newly engaged couple sending a nine-year-old on an errand on a Saturday afternoon, she asked Biyen what he’d been doing with his day. They chatted amiably for almost an hour before he decided he’d better get home.

She cleaned up, then went back to Fabiana’s, where she did shower. While she was grabbing her moisturizer off the desk, she absently checked her messages on the laptop, expecting another bunch of nothing.

She plopped her ass onto the chair when she saw one unread response that began,Cloe?

*

It was growingdark when Sophie came through the house and onto the porch.

“Hey. Are you okay? I tried to call a couple of times. The line was busy.”

“Oh, shoot.” Cloe dragged herself back to Raven’s Cove and Silas in her lap. “I meant to call as soon as I hung up, but I had to feed the cats. Then I poured a glass of wine and… Do you want one? It’s in the fridge.”

“Sure,” Sophie said with a cautious note, but came out a moment later with her own glass and sat down. “Is everything okay? You were on the phone for at least an hour. It wasn’t Fabiana, was it?”

“No. My dad.” She still couldn’t fully process that.

“Oh? You haven’t mentioned him before. I wasn’t sure he was in your life.”

“He never was, but he’s been trying to find me for over a year. Ever since he bumped into an old friend who told him he’d seen Mom ten years ago and that her kid looked just like him. He knew my name, but that’s all he had. I had closed all my social media accounts by then.”

The way he had spoken to her had been endearing, especially in his lilting Jamaican accent. There’d been familiarity in his tone, as though he had known her all her life. It had made her realize how real she was to him. How anxious he’d been to find her. It was surreal.

“That’s a lot formeto process,” Sophie said. “You seem like you’re in shock. Have you eaten? Can I make you something?”

“No, I’m not hungry.” She was in shock, though. She was clinging to this poor cat as though he was a life ring. He was purring, so he didn’t seem to mind the way she was kneading him like bread dough. “He was married when he met Mom, but they were separated. That’s why he took a job in California. Then his daughter got sick so he went back to Miami and reconciled with his wife. I guess he called Mom to tell her that, but she didn’t tell him she was pregnant.”

“So you have another sister?”

“And a brother. He’s two years younger than me. Isn’t that weird? They all know about me. His daughter has been helping him try to find me. He has a casita by their pool that I could stay in if I want to come visit.”

“I have to ask this, Cloe.” Sophie reached across and clasped her wrist. “Are you sure this isn’t some weird catfish thing?”

“No. He knew Tiffany. And things about her. Not that she had died, though. He cried when I told him—” She drew in a breath that burned, still hearing his pained breaths and quiet anguish. She pushed the back of her wrist against her lips to keep them from quivering.

You’re grieving. You’re my daughter. Let me take care of you.

And the way he’d said that word.Dawta. His deep voice had reached straight into her heart and cradled it, promising to keep it safe and sound.

“Oh, sweetie.” Sophie moved to stand behind her, wrapping her arms across her shoulders as she hugged her.

“I don’t know what to do,” Cloe admitted with a pang.

“You don’t have to do anything. Let it sit and rest.” Sophie squeezed her shoulders and straightened. “Like a turkey coming out of the oven.”

---