Page 100 of Deal Breaker
My breath catches.
He doesn’t say anything at first. But then very softly, he says, “Yeah. I guess I do.”
Poppy doesn’t think anything of it. She’s already moved on, busy sorting through the pile of books in the basket beside her. Ford is still staring at her like she just cracked the earth in two.
The librarian announces the start of story time andPoppy takes off running across the room with her usual gusto. She plops down right at the front of the rainbow rug, legs criss-crossed, her little chin tipped up, eyes already wide with anticipation.
“She doesn’t even look back,” Ford murmurs beside me.
“She never does,” I say, smiling. “She loves books more than almost anything. Her imagination is always running wild.”
We both watch as she waves at another little girl, whispers something, then giggles behind her hand. I know Poppy by heart—every mannerism, every expression, but right now I’m seeing her through Ford’s eyes, and it overwhelms me.
“She’s magnetic,” Ford whispers. “She’s at the center of everything.”
I glance at him, heart clenching. “She’s always been like that. Even as a baby. Curious. Fierce. So full of life I could barely keep up.”
He smiles, a real one this time. “She has your mouth.”
“And your eyebrows,” I whisper, letting myself look at him. “And your exact way of narrowing her eyes when she’s thinking too hard.”
His breath catches, and we both just sit and watch her, not speaking for a moment.
“Tell me more about her?” he asks, turning to look at me.
“She has this way of making everything sound like a story,” I tell him, smiling. “The weather. Her dreams. What she had for lunch. She talks like everything matters.”
“She’s…beautiful,” Ford says quietly.
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “She’s my whole heart.”
Ford doesn’t speak, but I feel the shift in him, like something inside is slowly rearranging itself, making room.
“I want her to know me,” he says finally.
“She will,” I say. “It will just take time.”
He nods again, slower this time. “You two…she looks so much like you, Lan.”
“I see so much of you, too. Every day. It hasn’t been easy to wake up every morning and see your eyes, the shape of your face, your mannerisms.”
He pulls both hands down his face, shaking his head. I know he must be thinking of all the time he’s lost, of every minute I kept from him. If I had made a different choice years ago, he wouldn’t have to ask me to tell him about his own daughter. He wouldn’t be a stranger to her.
Poppy turns on the rug to grin at us. I wave, and Ford lifts his hand too—a beat late, like he’s still trying to absorb it all.
“She’s going to change your life,” I say softly.
His gaze is still fixed on her, warm and reverent. “I think she already has.”
Then his gray eyes shift to meet mine and he’s the only person in the room. Everything else fades away until it’s just him and me, tangled in a silence that says everything we’re too afraid to voice out loud. The space between us feels impossibly charged—full of unsaid things, full of years we can’t get back. I blink hard, forcing the tears back, and then the librarian closes the book with a soft snap and a dozen little voices erupt with excitement as story time ends. The moment shatters like glass.
Poppy’s head whips around, eyes locking on mine, and she lights up like a sunrise. She races back, weaving through toddlers and strollers and parents, until she skids to a stop at my side. “I’m hungry,” she says, clutching her stomach likeit’s been days since she last ate rather than an hour or so ago.
I smile, brushing her hair back behind one ear. “Good thing we’ve got your favorite at home: grilled cheese.”
She grins. “With the special cheese?”
“Three kinds. Just for you.”
