Page 121 of Manhattan Kiss

“Please, Daddy? I like her. And maybe she could help you pick the colors for your bedroom.”

The more time I spend with Willow lately, the more space I see between us. Not distance, but positive space that’s been created in Willow’s growing independence. She’s showering herself, doing jigsaws by herself, having her own thoughts and opinions. She doesn’t need me in the same way she used to, and that’s good…but I’m not sure I expected it.

I didn’t expect there to be a time when I could see that maybe there’s also space for Aurora.

Maybe there was space for Aurora all along, and I just couldn’t see it.

“If you sent her a message, she might come around after she’s finished work,” Willow says.

If only it was that simple.

I know Aurora understood why I ended things, but I hurt her. I could pretend that we were just casual, but I would be lying to myself. It’s not true. I could pretend that we hadn’t known each other long, and that might be true in terms of time, but in my soul, it felt like I’d known Aurora my entire life. I know she felt the same way.

What we had was something rare. And precious. And I just threw it away because I was afraid.

Afraid of creating a scared, lonely child like I had been.

Afraid of not being the protector of Willow like I vowed to be.

Afraid of making any change in my life in case it disturbed that pain and grief over losing my sister that lives within me.

It’s like I’ve been walking around with a glass vase on my head, not making any sudden movements in case I drop it. The fact is, I can’t carry it any longer. Instead of burying this pain and grief, I need to deal with it. I need to make peace with it. Most of all, I need to not be afraid of it anymore.

“Please, Daddy.”

I’ve been weak. Oblivious. A complete idiot.

I can’t imagine Aurora will ever forgive me. I certainly don’t deserve her to. I definitely can’t leave her a voice note asking her to come round for a playdate, even though that would make my daughter very happy right now.

“I think she’s busy. But how about I message her later, when you’re in bed, and see what she says.”

“Why, Daddy? Why don’t you just do it now?”

“Later,” I say. “I need to figure out what to say.”

“Just ask her to come over.”

I chuckle and ruffle her hair. “It works differently when you’re a grown-up.”

Willow rolls her eyes and cartwheels back and forth as I watch.

In business, I managed to harness my fear and pain and used it to drive me forward toward success. But in my personal life, the opposite is true. It’s become a restriction, a prison, an emotion that has too much power over me. I’ve been so afraid of losing someone I care about, that I’ve either shunned relationships or shielded them so much it’s been destructive. I’ve not been living. Not really.

I won’t let fear and pain hold me back anymore.

I’ve got to open myself up—take a risk. Maybe I’ll still be afraid, but I have to conquer that fear or it will rule me for the rest of my life. It’s already cost me Aurora.

Enough.

I need to live.

Willow is ready. I’m ready. I just hope Aurora is.

And I hope it’s not too late.

FORTY-ONE

Aurora