Page 136 of One Touch

I sipped the coffee, which also reminded me of Lily.

“Damn it,” I muttered.

I took out my phone and brought up Lily’s number. I started to type, and it took me a couple of times to get the wording right.

Hey. I made pancakes for Ava this morning. She said they didn’t hold a candle to those blue ones you made. She really misses you. Give us a heads-up if you ever swing by Bluehaven. She’d love to see you.

I set down the phone and forced myself to get to work, but I found myself glancing at the screen every few minutes. I could see that she had read the message, but there was no reply. I didn’t blame her. Most likely she just wanted to get on with her new life romancing Chad McStudden.

“Come on, McCoy,” I muttered to myself. “Get it together. You’re the one who sent her away.”

I’d been thinking a lot about Chad McStudden, actually. Or whoever Lily had replaced me with. He was twenty-eight and had no kids. He was independently wealthy and could spend all his time thinking up elaborate, over-the-top romantic gestures to take Lily’s breath away. He’d never been through any trauma and was well-adjusted and kind, as well as being a sensitive, generous lover.

I hated Chad.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It wasn’t a message, but an actual call. Not Lily, though—it was the school. I wiped my greasy hands on a rag before answering.

“Mr. McCoy? This is Ms. Brown.”

My stomach dropped. “Is everything all right?”

“Ava’s had a difficult morning.”

“Is she sick? Do I need to pick her up?”

“No, no, she’s all right. She's just been dealing with some very Big Feelings since her spelling test.”

“Spelling test? She didn’t have one this week—right?”

“She had one this morning.”

“Right.”

My heart fell as I realized Ava had been hiding work from me again.

“Anyway, we’ve received the results from Ava’s comprehensive learning assessment. I’d love you to come in to discuss them sometime soon.”

“What’s the diagnosis?” I asked, heart racing.

“It’s not dyslexia as we initially suspected. It’s actually something called Irlen Syndrome.”

I was panicking now. Full-throttle. “Is that worse?”

“It’s just different,” replied Ms. Brown. “While dyslexia affects how the brain processes language, Irlen Syndrome is more about visual processing.”

“So . . . it’s not about understanding the words, but seeing them clearly?”

“Yes. It can make reading challenging, especially with certain lighting or high-contrast text. That’s why that colored overlay has been so good for her.” She paused. “You did a good job spotting that she was struggling, Mr. McCoy. She was hiding it well by not handing in her work.”

“Ethan. Don’t bother with Mr. McCoy. And I didn’t spot it. Ava’s nanny did.”

“Ah yes. Lily. I’ve heard so much about her. Seems like she has done wonders for Ava’s self-confidence. And now that we have her diagnosis, we have tools to help Ava continue to learn and grow.”

I ran a hand through my hair, guilt gnawing at me. “Things have been tough lately. I had to let Ava’s nanny go.”

“Ethan,” said Ms. Brown. “You’re a good dad. You have nothing to feel bad about. It’s clear that you’re doing your very best.”

My very best. Which clearly wasn’t good enough.

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