CHAPTER 14

And that didn’t just disappear.

My chest tightened as I breathed in the candy-smell of Milka’s hair. As I breathed in a past I missed and a future I never will. As I breathed in heartbreak and hope.

Milka suddenly gasped and wriggled of my arms. “Son? Dadda son?”

My eyes flicked between her and Chloe. Chloe laughed on a sob.

“Song,” she whispered. “She wants you to sing her a song.”

“Oh! A song! Let’s see . . .” I swooped Milka up in my arms. “Row, row, row, your boat . . .”

“No!” She laughed anyway. “Dadda son.”

“One of yours,” Chloe clarified, hugging herself. “She doesn’t like nursery rhymes. She’s your kid, for sure.”

Milka grinned.

“Okay, what one?” Am I seriously asking a two-year-old what to sing? “Oh, I know. This one.”

I hummed the melody and she squealed happily. I took that as a yes. I launched into the opening line, singing softly. I knew it because I wrote it, and I knew Chloe knew it, too, because she was there when I did.

That night, she switched out half the words beca