Tinsel (Lark Cove #4)(66)

“My dad . . .” Sofia trailed off.

I waited for her to continue, but all I heard was a sniffle. “Your dad, what?”

“He didn’t take his phone out.” She leaned back and looked up with tears in her eyes.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“No.” She wiped her eyes dry. “No, it’s a good thing. He’s always on his phone. But tonight, he wasn’t just there, he was present. When I was a kid, he never once made it to my dance recitals. I never saw him at the dinner table without his phone in his hand. He was always working. I don’t think I realized how angry I’ve been about that. But after tonight, it feels like I can let some of that go.”

“Good for you.”

She fell back into my arm, clutching it tighter than before. “I can’t thank you enough for being here. I wish you could stay longer.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Could you? I know you’ve got your new properties, but can they survive a few extra days without you?”

I sighed and shook my head. “No, I need to get back.”

There was a ton of work to be done, and I needed to put some hours in at the bar. And though both of those things could have been pushed back a day or two, it was best we cut this short.

Glen pulled up outside her building and opened his door, ready to get out and open ours, but I stopped him. “I got it.”

“Yes, sir.” He turned back and smiled at Sofia. “Congratulations on your opening tonight.”

“Thank you. Sorry to keep you out late.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He looked to me. “Safe travels home, Mr. Magee.”

I nodded, opened the door and helped Sofia out. Then we went inside, waving to her doorman as we passed through the lobby and right to the elevator.

The moment we stepped foot inside her penthouse, Sofia kicked off her heels and flew into my arms, wrapping them tightly around my waist.

I didn’t hesitate, holding her right back.

“Am I going to see you again?” she whispered.

“Someday.” I hoped.

“I don’t want this to be the end.”

I dropped my cheek to the top of her head, wishing we had more time and knowing we didn’t.

Our futures followed two different paths. Paths that ran in two different directions. Our time at their intersection was over.

“Tell me something. Can you look into the future and see us together?”

I wanted her answer to be yes. I wanted her to paint me a picture of a future where Sofia Kendrick and Dakota Magee stayed together. Because for all the hours I’d spent trying, I sure as hell couldn’t imagine one.

We were a void. An empty, black box.

Her frame slumped. “No. Honestly, I’ve tried. But I just can’t see it.”

“Me neither.”

She sniffled, her chin quivering against my chest. “I hate this.”

“So do I.”

Sofia leaned back, giving me eyes full of unshed tears. “One more night.”

One more night.

I bent, scooping her up under the knees, and carried her down the long hallway and up the stairs to her bedroom. There we spent the night together, forsaking sleep like we had during our last night in Montana. We spent the hours holding tight to those last precious moments.

When morning came, Sofia and I stood on the sidewalk outside her building. Her eyes were red rimmed and full of despair. I hated that when she let loose, when she cried after the car parked at the curb pulled away, I wouldn’t be here to hold her.

“So, I’ll see you when I see you.” She forced a smile.

I nodded. “See you when I see you.”

“You can call me. Whenever you want, call me.”

“Same to you.”

Neither of us would be making that call.

The first good-bye in Lark Cove had been hard. This one, nearly impossible. I wouldn’t be able to walk away from a third. Phone calls and texts would only make things harder.

“Take care of yourself, Sofia Kendrick.” I cupped her cheek, letting the warmth from my palm heat her skin. Then I dropped a soft kiss to her lips and another to her temple.

My temple.

Letting her go was the hardest thing I’d done in years, but I dropped my hand, turned and walked to the car.

I didn’t look back. In the reflection of the car’s tinted windows, she waved. She began to cry as she whispered, “Good-bye, Dakota Magee.”





Three months later . . .



“I think we need to hire another ballet instructor,” Daniel said.

We were standing side by side in front of the observation window, watching the afternoon advanced ballet class.

“I could do it.”

His face snapped to mine, but I kept watching as the girls practiced their pliés. “I thought you didn’t want to be tied to a schedule.”

I shrugged. “I’m here anyway. It would be fun.”

In the three months since the studio had opened, something had happened I would have bet my trust fund would be impossible.

I had turned into a workaholic.

I was the first one here each day, coming straight to the studio after meeting with my trainer at six each morning. I’d make coffee, tidy up if needed, then settle into my office, working there until the instructors showed up at two each afternoon to prep for class. Once the children arrived, I’d visit with parents and loiter in the reception area. And when everyone had left for the night, I’d let Daniel escort me out, and I’d lock up behind us both.