The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(93)

“Why are you treating Steffi like she isn’t your friend? You liked her a lot up until Saturday.” He laid his hand near her legs but didn’t touch her.

“I didn’t like her a lot. I was just bored here by myself.”

Three “boreds” in two minutes. A new record. If she said it one more time, he might not be able to contain the frustrated growl forming in his chest.

“Don’t lie, Emmy. You liked working with her, and you invited her on our sailing trip. You made her think you were friends.” He rubbed her leg, suspecting Val had planted seeds of discontent. “And don’t blame this attitude on the fainting, because you were treating her badly before that happened. So what changed everything?”

“Nothing.”

He wound one arm around her shoulders. “I know you’ve been hoping that your mom and I will get back together. We’re both so sorry about the way things turned out, but we can’t stay married. When you’re older, you’ll understand better. But for now, even though you’re sad, you can’t punish me or Steffi . . . or your mom and John, for that matter. Life changes, and you have to be able to adapt. To roll with it.”

“That’s easy for you to say when you get to decide everything.” She set the sketch pad on her thighs and crossed her arms, eyes glittering with tears. “I want to go live with Mommy back in Boston. Can you ‘roll with it’?”

“That’s different.” He couldn’t catch his breath. Is that really what she wanted?

“Why? Why can’t I have a say? Why can’t we be a family again?” A tear rolled out of the corner of one eye.

His daughter’s pain hammered at his chest like a judge’s gavel, condemning him for all the mistakes he’d made as a husband and father. He was supposed to ease her pain, not cause it. Her tears might as well be acid for how they burned his heart. He supposed there would be many types of torture a father would undergo throughout life, and he didn’t particularly look forward to learning more. When he tried to hug her, she fought him.

“Emmy, I’m doing the best I can, but I won’t lie and tell you what you want to hear. Your mom and I weren’t happy together, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love you. And that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy again. We’d never bring anyone new into your life that would hurt you. Steffi cares about you and wants to make your life better in any way she can,” he said. “I don’t know exactly what the future holds, but I care about her. I think the three of us could have fun if you stay open. Can’t you try, sweetheart?”

A broken voice cried. “Mommy left me for John, and now you’re picking Steffi over me.”

“Oh, sweetie.” He tugged her against his chest. If he squeezed her hard enough, would it strangle her sense of rejection so it didn’t change her on some elemental level? “That’s not true. Nobody . . . nobody matters more to me than you. I love you with every cell in my body. But just like you might get a little lonely and want friends, I need grown-up friends, too. And Steffi is more than a friend, or a special friend. She makes me feel . . . hopeful.”

Emmy broke free and flopped back onto her pillows to stare at the ceiling, arms still crossed.

Ryan sighed and watched his daughter pout until she squeezed her eyes shut. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “I’ll go change and let you think about what I’ve said. I know you have a good heart. We’ll all be happier if you use it to be kinder to Steffi and John. In the meantime, maybe you and I can plan a special father-daughter day on Saturday. Would you like to shop for a small sewing machine and fabric so you can try making some of these creations? Anything you want, princess. Just name it.”

One of her eyelids popped open.

“Can we buy a puppy?” She sat up. Wily one, she was. Plucking his heartstrings with the finesse of a concert cellist.

“What?”

“I promise to take care of it. Please, Daddy. I would be happier if I had a puppy.” She rose to her knees and folded her hands in prayer.

Val had never allowed pets in the house. He couldn’t ask his parents to suffer through puppyhood, but maybe once he got his own place, he’d consider it.

“I’ll tell you what. Show me that you can be responsible and kind, and then when we get our own place, we can seriously consider getting a puppy.” Before he rose, he added, “Cats are easier.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Cats aren’t fun.”

“You’ve got a point.” He ruffled her hair, then ambled out of her room, wondering whether he’d made another mistake by striking that deal without more thought. Then again, right now he’d do anything to make her feel loved.

As he strolled the hallway, his thoughts turned to Steffi, as they often did these days. He closed his bedroom door and dialed her number.

“Hey, Ryan.”

He smiled upon hearing her voice. “You sound out of breath.”

“Rick—from my crew—and I just finished installing a new structural beam where we’ve opened up part of a wall in the Hightop Road house. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I heard you didn’t get a chance to talk to Emmy today.”

“No, but she’ll come around. Don’t push her. I get her . . . it needs to be on her terms.”