Page 109 of Ruthless Serenade

It’s Sharon’s bedtime.

I tuck her in, watching her small form nestle among the pillows. I reach for one of her favorite storybooks, a well-loved tale of magical dreams and far-off adventures, and begin reading for her. As the last words fade from the final page, Sharon looks up at me, her blue eyes holding a gravity.

"Mommy, I had a dream last night," she says softly, her voice still a rarity that makes my heart stumble in my chest.

I brush a silken strand of hair from her forehead. "What did you dream, baby?"

She holds the silence for a moment, then whispers, "I dreamed that Maron was my dad."

The words catch me like a swift current. I can’t believe it. This is the moment. I’ve been rehearsing this in my head for so long, but now that it’s here, all my practiced words dissolve on my tongue.

"Did you talk to him in your dream?" I manage, studying my daughter’s face. The question carries more weight than she could possibly understand.

She nods. "Yes."

"And what did you tell him?"

I watch the thoughts dance behind her eyes, her little brow furrowing in concentration. "I don’t remember."

"Were you happy? In the dream, about Maron being your dad?"

She burrows into my neck like a shy kitten, nodding. Her "Uh-huh" barely brushes against my skin, but it’s there.

I gently draw her back, needing to see those eyes that are so much like Maron’s. My heart races as I ask the question that means everything: "Sharon, honey... if Maron really was your dad, would you talk to him?"

A little smirk plays across her lips as she nods, and I feel tears prick at my eyes.

"Pinky swear?" I hold out my finger, a tremor running through it.

She wraps her tiny pinky around mine, nodding with such enthusiasm it makes her curls bounce.

This is it. The moment that’s been living in my heart, equal parts terror and hope. My palms are slick with nervous sweat,and there’s a boulder growing in my throat. I send up a silent prayer that this truth won’t disrupt the delicate peace we’ve found, won’t push her back into silence.

I draw in a steadying breath.

Here goes nothing, Mindy.

"Well, baby..." My voice comes out surprisingly steady. "I’ve got something to tell you. Maron really is your dad."

Time seems to freeze as Sharon stares at me, her blue eyes wide and unblinking. I can almost hear the click of puzzle pieces falling into place in her mind. Then, like sunrise breaking through storm clouds, her face transforms. A smile unfurls across her features, starting as a tender bud and blooming until it reaches her eyes, igniting them with sparkle.

"Really?" The word floats between us like a wish.

I nod, feeling tears gather at the corners of my eyes. "Really, sweetheart."

Sharon bolts upright, suddenly vibrating with excitement. "Can I go tell him? Now?"

The eagerness in her voice, the simple fact that she wants to speak to him, makes my heart soar. I press a kiss to her warm cheek, tasting the joy radiating from her. "You can tell him in the morning, baby." I tuck the blanket snugly around her small frame. "Now it’s time for you to sleep, honey bunny."

As I give her a goodnight kiss and slip out of her room, I can’t help but wonder if tomorrow will change everything. Again.

This time, though, I’m not afraid of change.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Maron

There’s a faint knock on my office door.

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