Page 71 of A Sinful Gravity

"Yes!" She nodded seriously. "We just can't hear it. But this piano can!"

She scrambled up from the floor, clutching her toy piano, and climbed onto my bed, burrowing into my arms. Her little body was warm, carrying that sweet smell of sleep.

"Mommy, I want to learn to play this." She pointed at the keys. "A real one, not a toy."

"A real piano?"

"Yes!" She nodded hard. "Aunt Chloe showed me a movie with a girl playing piano. She was so pretty. Her dress was pretty, her hair was pretty, and everyone watched her play."

She looked up at me, eyes full of hope.

"Mommy, can I?"

I looked down at her, at the brightness in her eyes.

In that instant, the contents of that planning document flashed through my mind.

Music enrichment courses—age four is the sensitive period for music. The recommended piano teacher graduated from Juilliard School, specialized in teaching young children, with a six-month waiting list. But Cassian had already secured a spot.

Those densely packed words spun through my head like a carousel.

"Mommy?" Laila tugged at my pajamas. "What are you thinking about?"

"Thinking about..." I paused. "How to get you piano lessons."

She bounced excitedly in my arms. "Really? Really? Can I wear a pretty dress? Can I be like in the movie—"

"Yes, yes." I held her still. "But first you need to eat breakfast, brush your teeth, wash your face, and get dressed. Do all that, and then we'll talk about dresses."

"I'll go right now!" She jumped out of my arms and pattered barefoot toward the bathroom, then stopped halfway and turned back. "Mommy, you have to keep your promise!"

"I will."

Satisfied, she disappeared into the bathroom. Soon, I heard running water and her humming some unrecognizable tune.

I sat on the bed, watching the sunlight on her toy piano.

Laila wanted to learn piano.

She wanted to do so many things. Dance, paint, and now piano. She wanted to explore the world, try everything new.

And I couldn't even give her full days.

That planning document had a yard where she could run, a professional music room, twenty-four-hour security, and everything she needed.

Things I couldn't give her.

But he could.

I picked up my phone, looking at that familiar number on the screen. Six years, and I still remembered it.

Taking a deep breath, I hit dial.

One ring.

Two.

Three.