Page 95 of Sunshine
It’s late afternoon whenAnnalise texts to let me know she’s on her way, so I’m there to meet the hired car as it pulls up in front of the Silver Leaf Ranch & Vineyard reception house. I’m nervous, but I’m always nervous when Annalise comes to visit.
At first, before Izzy, it was because she intimidated me and challenged me, and I was desperate to impress her. She was this sexy, smart, sophisticated city woman who kept coming back to small-town Aster Springs for the single purpose of dirty weekends with me. I was young and stupid, and her attention made me feel like a fucking hero.
After Izzy, I waited months at a time for her to fit us into her schedule, anxiously hoping for the day she’d come to her senses and choose to stay. If not for me, then for her daughter. But it never happened. Annalise made time for us, sure, but the terms of our relationship never changed: she was here to fulfill an obligation, and I was expected to honor mine. To make her come.
It took me too long to admit to myself I felt used, and even longer to sayno, but at least that’s one line I don’t need to draw today. We haven’t slept together since Izzy was born.
Not that she hasn’t tried.
“Hello, Dylan,” she says as she steps out from the backseat of her hired car. She slides her sunglasses from her nose and moves in to kiss me lightly on the cheek. There’s a glimmer of predatory amusement in her gaze as it skims over my long hair and stubbled cheeks. “It’s good to see you.”
I return her greeting quickly before putting a little distance between us. “It’s nice to see you too.”
The driver heaves a suitcase from the trunk, and I accept it with a nod and an eagerness to stop standing still.
“Are we headed straight to the cabin?” she asks before she glances around. “Where is Isobel?”
I start up the path toward the restaurant. “She’s with the, uh…” I cringe at having to use this word, but I didn’t think ahead, and now I’m stuck. “The nanny.”
“The nanny?” Annalise returns her glasses to her nose as she walks beside me. “You didn’t tell me you hired a nanny.”
“She’s a family friend. Poppy. I mean, Penelope. She started not long after Christmas.”
“Is there a reason you didn’t tell me about Poppy? I mean, Penelope?”
She does it without meaning to, I’m sure of it. The five-foot-four loom. The assumption she’s smarter than everyone else in the room. The unshakable belief she has something everyone else wants. The confidence. It’s what attracted me to her in the first place, and it’s what’s kept me from being the father I need to be ever since.
I pause on the path halfway between the reception house and the restaurant and turn to face Annalise. Poppy and I spent our last three date nights writing notes to help me prepare for thisconversation, and even though she’s not here, I lean into Poppy’s support now.Poppy’sconfidence—in me.
“A lot has changed these last few months and I do need to talk to you about it,” I say. “But I need to do it at my own pace and in my own words. Can we drop the cat-and-mouse game? Please? I’ll collect Izzy for dinner in an hour. That’ll give us time to lay a few things on the table.”
Annalise crosses her arms and lifts her chin, probably spearing me with a cool glance that I can’t quite make out through the darkness of her shades. “Very well. Let’s go.”
The restaurant has already seated a handful of guests for dinner, but my usual table is waiting for us in the far corner. Annalise removes her sunglasses as I offer her a chair, then take the one opposite her, lifting a hand toward our sommelier, who nods and fetches us two glasses of Silver Leaf red. Annalise takes a sip before she sets her crossed arms on the table and regards me with a tilt of her head.
“Is Isobel well?”
The question takes me off guard, and I feel like a dick for assuming Annalise wouldn’t care enough about our daughter to ask. If I’ve learned anything from my past mistakes, it’s to not let my own baggage impact the choices I make for my kid. And that starts with cleaning the slate. Giving Annalise the benefit of the doubt.
“She’s developed anxiety,” I say.
Annalise has never been the emotional kind, so the crease between her brows speaks volumes. “When? And why?”
I sigh, pausing to pick my words. I don’t want this to sound like an accusation. “It began last November.”
“Before or after I was here?”
“After.”
Annalise blinks, then nods. “Go on.”
“She stopped falling asleep on her own. I have to lay with her every night, and she won’t go to bed for anyone else.”
It’s not until I say it that I realize that’s not entirely true. She fell asleep with Poppy last weekend, but it doesn’t feel kind to bring that up now.
“She was having trouble at her previous school,” Annalise points out. “She’s gifted, which means her brain doesn’t respond to stimulus in ways we might expect, and she’s adjusting to a new routine. Those things could be the problem.”
“I agree,” I say. “I don’t think there’s any one issue here. It’s a combination of different things.”
