Page 119 of Manhattan Kiss

“You could try it,” I say, as I come back into the bedroom.

Willow’s eyes light up. “And you could try Mommy’s old room. Let’s go and see it.”

We pad down the corridor, past the laundry room, Willow’s current bedroom, and into the primary.

I haven’t been in here for years. Not much has changed since Gabby and I shared this room. It has the same blue roman blinds at the window and the same bedside tables. It’s like some kind of memorial to a relationship that’s long since died.

“I don’t think I’ll sleep in here tonight,” I say.

“Why not, Daddy?”

I head into the bathroom. “I think I want to paint the walls.”

Willow grabs me and my stomach flips over. I know what she’s going to say. She’s going to beg me not to. She wants it to stay the same—she wants to remember what the house was like when she used to live here with both her parents. I understand that feeling of panic that comes with change you don’t want. And I won’t put Willow through that.

“Daddy!” Willow squeals. “Can I choose the color?”

I turn to her and she’s grinning. She’s not panicking.

“The color?”

“Yes, if you’re going to paint, can I choose?” she asks.

“You don’t mind if I paint in here?” It’s a bigger room, with larger windows at the back of the house, which would be quieter. I wouldn’t need both the bathrooms—there’s a his and a hers, and both are bigger than the one in the room I’m currently using.

I’d forgotten how much Gabby loved this room. I can see why now.

She shrugs. “I think it would be nice in yellow. Like the sun.”

Yeah, I’m definitely not living in a bright yellow bedroom. “Tell you what,” I say. “you can choose the color you paint your bedroom, and I’ll choose the color I’m going to paint my bedroom.”

“Okay. Sounds like a deal.”

I chuckle at her negotiating.

“But can I actually help do the painting?” she asks.

“I don’t know about that,” I say.

“But I really want to, Daddy. I read in a book how you can write messages under the paint and then paint over it and I really want to write on my walls.”

“We’ll see. We can’t do it today. We have to plan.”

“Let’s write a list.”

“A list?”

“Of all the rooms we’re going to paint.”

“All the rooms? I thought it was just my bedroom.”

“The green room too.”

“I thought you liked that color.”

“I think I’d prefer pink,” she says.

Maybe I haven’t lost my little girl completely.