Page 4 of Sunshine
There’s no point denying it. I’m a small-town chef running a restaurant I inherited instead of earned, and I’m a single dad living with my two sisters in our family home. Annalise is a high-flying international lawyer who visited Silver Leaf for the first time eight years ago and gifted a cocky young Dylan Davenport with one wild Christmas weekend.
For her, those forty-eight hours were a way to pass time. But me? It was infatuation at first sight. She was ten years older. Infinitely more intelligent. Entirely irresistible and way out of my league. I practically begged her to come back, and we hooked up three or four times a year for the next two years until one day, she showed up with a positive pregnancy test and a proposal—just not the kind I was expecting.
She wasn’t interested in giving up her career for a baby, but she respected my choice as the father, so… Did I want to raise our child by myself?
I didn’t think twice before I said yes.
“After Izzy flew through kindergarten,” I continue, “Annalise and I agreed it was important to know what we’re dealing with, so Izzy had a bunch of assessments and tests, and she was identified as gifted.” I pick up a stack of papers outlining Izzy’s academic requirements and her extracurricular commitments and hand them to Poppy. “My daughter is a freaking genius, and now it’s my job to keep up.”
Poppy homes in on the private school brochures and points at the cover image of happy kids in crisp blue uniforms. “A new school?”
“It’s a day school not too far from here with small class sizes and extended academic programs for kids like Izzy. She starts two weeks from Monday.”
Poppy flicks through the paperwork, and when she reaches the page listing tuition, her eyes grow wide as she lets out a low whistle. “Did you win the lottery or something?”
“Uh…Annalise is covering all the costs.”
I clear my throat and shove aside my ego. It wasn’t my idea to take Izzy out of public school—my eldest brother Chord was an ice hockey prodigy from the day he could stay upright in skates, and I know firsthand what life can be like for kids who are defined by a single talent and raised to pursue it above all else—but Annalise is adamant that Izzy’s education be our top priority, and I can’t argue with that.
“She’s also paying for a bunch of extracurricular activities to balance all the left-brain stuff, isn’t that right, Dylan?” Daisy adds.
“Uh, yeah.”
Poppy helps herself to a random flier and scans the first couple of lines. “Music lessons?”
“Trumpet on Mondays,” I confirm. “Izzy’s choice.”
Poppy hums quietly and trades one flier for another. “Foreign languages?”
“Spanish. On Wednesdays.”
“Ballet,” Poppy murmurs, moving the papers around on the table. “Soccer. Ceramics.”
“Fridays and Saturdays,” I confirm with a nod.
“Plus, horse-riding lessons with me, of course,” Daisy adds.
“And cooking classes at home,” I say.
I dig around for a copy of Izzy’s schedule and pass it to Poppy. Her brows draw in as she scans the grid that outlines Izzy’s whereabouts Monday to Sunday from sunup to sundown.
The school stuff might be Annalise’s idea, but the rest of it is mine. If Izzy is going to be put into a school that extends her intellect, then I want to make sure she’s a well-rounded kid with interests that go beyond what she learns in her classes. Art and music and language and sports.
I saw what happened to my brother when my parents hyper-focused on one talent above all else, and Chord would be the first to agree that he doesn’t want Izzy to turn out the way he did: a legend, sure, but one who woke up one day to realize all anyone saw when they looked at him was a pretty face and a hockey stick. And while he was busy chasing hockey records, he’d lost everything and everyone he cared about. It took falling in love with his personal assistant before my brother realized what he was missing.
And Izzy isn’t going to end up like me either: a single parent living at home with not enough options and so many responsibilities that he can’t find time to get his hair cut.
“This is a lot of stuff for a little girl,” Poppy murmurs.
“It’s a lot of stuff for herfather,” Daisy huffs under her breath and starts tearing apart a helpless pink marshmallow. “She might not care enough to actually be here, but at least Izzy’s mother has given you money to hire a nanny to help out.”
“I don’t need a nanny,” I say, ignoring the comments about Annalise. “And I don’t want a stranger in and out of Izzy’s life right now. She needs stability and certainty and safety.”
I don’t mention the recent changes to Izzy’s bedtime routine. My family hasn’t noticed yet, and causing them worry isn’t going to ease my own.
“I agree,” Daisy says, stuffing the mangled marshmallow in her mouth.
“You do?” I ask with surprise.
