She stopped herself after half a glass of wine.
I admit I was grateful. I wasn’t looking for a repeat of the other night when the martinis melted her common sense.
I know if she would have been stone cold sober that night that I wouldn’t have made it past the doorman of her building.
I want to win her over on a level playing field. I don’t need the advantage that alcohol brings.
“I liked the dinner,” she admits. “You can still cook shrimp scampi.”
I mastered a few meals back in California.
I upped my kitchen game in Nashville when I became a dad.
The nights I had Kristin, I’d cook for her. The kid may have requested macaroni and cheese at every turn, but I broadened her culinary horizon.
By the time she was seven-years-old, seafood topped her request list followed by an array of vegetarian dishes.
One of the things I miss most about being shut out of my little girl’s life is the moments spent in the kitchen cooking with her.
“Will Kristin be coming for a visit soon?” Katie’s gaze shifts from my face to the half-full wine glass in front of her.
The woman is a mind reader.
She noticed me slipping into my thoughts. I’m not surprised that she instinctively knew that I was thinking about my daughter.
“I hope so.”
I want her here in New York so I can take her to the observation deck on the top of the Empire State Building and a matinee of a Broadway musical.
Visiting Manhattan is on Kristin’s bucket list.
It’s well below meeting her favorite musician and getting a tattoo, but there are only so many dreams a dad can make come true.
“I’d like to meet her,” Katie says quietly. “I like kids a lot.“
I pop a brow. “I saw that when you were holding your friend’s baby.”
She lets out a sigh. “I love Arleth. I could hold her for hours.”
“She looked peaceful in your arms.”
Katie’s hand moves to the back of her neck. “We’ve both changed a lot since we broke up.”
I know where this is heading, so I don’t stop her. I let her say what she needs to say.
“I think about being a mom.” Her voice catches in her throat. I watch her swallow past something. I’d call it nerves since I witnessed firsthand the stress she was under in college and I’ve seen this reaction from her dozens of times. “Being a mom isn’t what I thought it was.”
“Olivia taught you differently?” I ask to lessen the weight that she’s carrying.
She’s trying to tell me that she’s softened her stance on having kids. I’m not surprised. Time changes a person. It sure as hell changed me.
“Do you like being a dad?” She shifts the focus to me. I’ll gladly grab the baton if it helps her ease into whatever she’s feeling.
“I love it,” I answer without a beat of hesitation. “It’s everything.”
Chapter 37
Kate