We climb the stairs in silence, and he brushes his hand against mine, squeezing my pinkie.
“I hope she’s not coming down with anything,” I say.
“Let’s find out.” He moves his hand on the small of my back as he leads me to her room. While my mind is full of worry, my body tingles with excitement.
“Hey, sweetheart, we came to check if you’re okay.” He knocks on Zoya’s open door.
She sits up cross-legged on her bed, her shoulders slouched. Declan sits beside her, and I stay, leaning against the door.
She looks at me, and then at Declan. “Lily says there is nothing wwong with me, but I think she’s twying to be nice.”
What is she talking about? And the fact that a six-year-old knows about pretending makes me mad at the world, and sad at the same time. When did she lose her innocence?
Declan glances at me, and then leans toward his daughter. “I think Lily is an honest person, and she would not lie to you.”
And there goes my heart, the reminder of my lack of honesty squeezing my stomach. I need to talk to him. I need to tell him everything. He deserves to know.
“Yeah, that sounds like hew.” Zoya smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. What has wiped that beautiful, always-present grin from her face?
Declan opens his arms, and Zoya crawls into hisembrace. “I agree with Lily; there is nothing wrong with you.”
She sighs. “Why can’t I say ‘w’?”
Declan looks at me like a deer in headlights. I cross the room and sit beside them. “Love, sometimes it takes longer.”
She purses her lips, contemplating before she says, “Zach can say it.”
Declan sighs, pulling her tighter. He kisses her forehead.
“Do you know when he started walking?” I ask.
Declan raises his eyebrow.
“No.” She shakes her head.
“When he was fourteen months old. Four months after you. Today, you are both pretty good at walking. No one can tell when you started.” I wink at her.
Declan stares at me.
Zoya perks up. “I was first?” She looks at her dad with expectation.
“It’s not a competition, sweetheart.” He kisses her forehead. “But if your tongue doesn’t obey you by the time Grade One starts, we will take you to a specialist.”
“What’s a specialist?” She looks from Declan to me.
“Someone that is so good at saying R, they can teach you.” I smile at her.
Her eyes widen. “Can we go now?”
“Not right now, sweetheart, but we can make an appointment.”
“Tomowow?”
“Sure.” He nods. “Let’s get ready for the ice cream outing.”
I take a sip of whiskey, leaning against the banister and looking at the flickering city.
“I think I had too much ice cream.” Declan joins me.