“Why not?” He tapped her nose with a flour-dusted finger. “I’m the grandpa! That means I get first dibs.”
“Noooo.” She giggled, squirming until he set her on the counter beside the bread box. Dad handed Daphne a piece of the very same cornbread, holding her over until we could get everything plated up and on the table.
Mom turned her attention to Daphne, reaching out to smooth her wild curls. “And how was your day, little miss?”
“I drew a picture for you at daycare,” Daphne declared, shoving a crumpled paper from her pocket.
Mom took it with a warm smile, unfolding it to reveal what was, honestly, a very abstract family portrait. “Oh, sweetheart, I love it.”
Daphne beamed. “That’s me, and that’s Mommy, and that’s Gram-Gram and Poppy”—she pointed to three squiggly stick figures—“and that’s our puppy.”
Dad arched a brow. “You don’t have a puppy.”
“But maybe for my birthday,” my little girl said, giving me a too-cute-for-words flutter of her eyelashes.
I laughed, looking at my parents. “This is her recent obsession, even though I told her we can’t have a dog in our apartment.”
Daphne pouted, but when Poppy handed her another little slice of cornbread, the potential for tears went away.
“Come on, let’s get youreallyfed,” Dad said, lifting her off the counter and carrying her to the table.
We all sat down, the warmth of family wrapping around me like a second skin. The old, mismatched chairs. The little owl-shaped salt and pepper shakers that had been my maternal grandmother’s before Mom got them. The way my parents never sat down without making sure everyone else had a full plate first.
“So,” Mom said as she passed the cornbread basket, finally settling in for her own dinner. Her eyes landed on me. “We heard all about Daphne’s artwork. What’s new with our other favorite girl? How’s work?”
“Work is good,” I said quickly. But when it came to the other question, the openWhat’s new?I hesitated, thinking first of the one update to my life that I absolutely could not tell them.Oh, you know—I just hooked up with the guy who may or may not be Daphne’s father in a bar bathroom, and now I’m in a whole mess of paternity drama with his two best friends, one of whom is actually my husband. Surprise!
But I shoved those thoughts away, revealing that underneath, there were parts of my current life I could share. I cleared my throat. “Well, I’m kind of getting back into music. I…actually played at an open mic the other night.”
Dad nearly dropped his spoon, then broke into a huge smile. “Hey, that’s my girl! What did you sing? Did the crowd beg for an encore?”
“I just did the one song,” I said, smiling back at him. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“I would have loved to have seen it,” Mom frowned. “You’ve got such a pretty voice, and we haven’t seen you perform in forever.”
“It was a spontaneous thing,” I hurried to say, feeling a little twinge of guilt. “Next time, I’ll let you know beforehand.”
“So there’ll be a next time?”
“I hope so,” I said, and the happy bubble popped.
Mom nodded slowly, her smile turning more serious. She exhaled, that familiar mix of pride and worry flickering across her face. “Sweetheart, you know we’ve always believed in your talent, but…”
“But being a musician is not a realistic career path,” I finished for her, tearing off a piece of cornbread and popping it into my mouth.
“I didn’t say that.” She softened. “I just…you know I worry about you trying to get into such an unstable industry. Dealing with rejection. And we don’t want you to lose sight of what’s important. You have Daphne to think about.”
“I know,” I said, my stomach twisting. I always knew. But I also knew that Daphne needed to learn to follow her own dreams, no matter how big or unrealistic. And I certainly knew that if I didn’t at least try to follow my own, I’d regret it forever.
Before I could argue, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, frowning at the screen. Luca’s contact flickered across it.
“No phones at the table,” my dad barked, and Daphne made a scandalizedooohsound that meantMommy’s in trouble.
“I know, Dad,” I said, wincing. But Luca calling didn’t exactly bode well, considering the fact that we were in a complicated situation together. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta take this,” I decided, pushing back my chair.
As I stepped into the hallway, I answered quietly. “Hey. I’m, uh, at dinner with my family. What’s up?”
“Oh, damn,” His voice was soft, like he was just as concerned with being overheard as I was. “Sorry to bother you. I should have texted first.”
