Page 70 of The Overtime Kiss

It’s almost placating, but her eyes linger for a beat too long. Long enough that I wonder—hope—that she’s remembering too. But then she looks away, and the moment’s gone.

Luna side-eyes me. “Dad, it’s okay if you’re not good at carving pumpkins. You’re good at carving the ice,” she says, proud of her comparison. That makes two of us. “And wait till you see my Halloween costume.”

She sounds too pleased.

“Is it a cat, still?” I ask, relieved to steer this conversation toward something that isn’t my pumpkin atrocity or the world’s sexiest kiss yesterday with the nanny.

“I can’t tell you,” she says, smirking. “But Sabrina is helping me.”

Sabrina flashes a pleased smile, wiping her hands on an orange towel with a black cat illustration. “It’s going to be amazing, and it was all Luna’s idea.”

And hell, thatisgreat. I should be thrilled that Parker has finally warmed up to her, that Luna is bonding with her more. I should be grateful that everything feels so damn normal.

And yet, some primal, restless part of me is annoyed.

Annoyed that Sabrina has apparently put yesterday behind her so much more easily than I have.

I grip the knife harder as I carve a droopy dick face.

“Are you ready?” Luna’s voice calls out from behind her closed bedroom door at seven in the morning on Halloween.

I still haven’t seen her costume yet. It’s been one hundred percent classified on a need-to-know basis, she’d told me. Apparently, I didn’t need to know.

What Idoknow is that she’s been spending a suspicious amount of secret time at Sabrina’s place.

“She has a sewing machine, Dad! And it’s so cool,” Luna had said, practically vibrating with excitement.

Huh. I had no idea. “She does?”

“Her name isElphaba,” Luna had informed me, like I was an idiot for not knowing that.

“The sewing machine has a name?”

“Obviously.” Then she’d trotted off to work on “girl” stuff at Sabrina’s.

Now, I’m waiting, standing in the hallway outside her door, while my son—fully suited up in his hand-stitched astronaut costume—sits on the stairs, adjusting his helmet.

The door creaks open, and Luna swings it wide.

“Ta-da!” She throws her arms out, sticking the landing like she’s mid-routine on the ice.

And—holy shit.

She’s a figure skater. But not in any costume I’ve seen before.

Gone are the simple pink and black practice dresses with their little skirts that she’s worn for the programs she’s performed in showcases and minor competitions. This one is lavender, with sheer long sleeves, fine netting along the neckline, and sparkles everywhere—over the arms and cascading down the front like stardust.

“It’s one of Sabrina’s costumes! She wore it to nationals, and she took it in for me.” Luna beams.

My jaw practically unhinges. This isn’t just a costume. It’s a gift. A damn meaningful one.

Luna even has white lace-up boots that almost look like ice skates, with silver ribbon tied around the base to sell the illusion.Impressive.

“It’s perfect,” I manage, still reeling.

Luna twirls, then grins. “Are you surprised? Iwantedtosurprise you, Dad. Isn’t it the coolest, fanciest skating costume ever?”

“It is,” I say, still processing the fact that Sabrina took in one of her old costumes for my daughter.

---