“Tell me something about you, Willow. What do you want to do in the future?”

“You’re asking deep questions.”

“It’s an important one.” Leaning back, he peels back the corner of the label. “I don’t think I ever asked Chloe. I was always so hell-bent on letting her forge her own path. My father… he was never like that. He was always on my case, trying to steer me in a certain direction. It didn’t go well. I never tried to push Chloe, but now I think I should have asked her…” A muscle jumps in his cheek, and he takes another swig of his beer. “I should have asked her what her dreams were.”

The light in his eyes dims again, so I inhale a shaky breath and reply honestly, “I don’t know what my dreams are.”

The muscle in his jaw ticks again. Leaning forward, he puts the beer on the table. “You have time to find a dream.”

“Maybe.” To lighten the mood, I add, “I want to visit Paris one day.”

He smiles at me, then claps his thighs and stands up. “I know it’s early, but I’ll start on the food. Do you want to watch a movie or something in the meantime?”

“Do you mind if I keep you company?”

“I’ll teach you the recipe if you want.”

I stand up too and follow him into the kitchen. After I finish my glass of lemon water, I rinse it out and put it on the drying rack.

CHAPTER 7

GRAYSON

I shouldn’t enjoy her company like this. A young woman like Willow should be out with her friends, enjoying life. Not cooking food with a middle-aged man like me. But for whatever reason, she seems to want to be here. I enjoy the break in the silence. Willow talks a lot about everything and nothing. Sometimes she talks because she wants to fill the silence, and sometimes she talks simply to coax a smile from my lips. She’s like a candle in the darkness. If not for her, I would be wasting away on my couch, staring at the unlit fireplace. At least while Willow is here, I get a short break from wallowing in my misery. I can see why Chloe liked her so much. She’s witty but also sensitive. Young but also wise, thanks to her absent mom, who doesn’t care beyond keeping her clothed and fed.

It’s not enough. Willow craves company. She craves to be seen.

Our fingers brush as we reach for the knife at the same time. I pretend I don’t notice her blushing cheeks. “You can have it. I’ll grab another one.”

Why am I encouraging her like this? I’ve always known she has an innocent crush on me, but I still don’t turn her away. I don’t want to when the alternative is to be alone, letting the pain back in. This is a nice distraction. Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but nothing will ever happen between us. She’s my daughter’s age, not even legal yet.