Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
I nodded, taking that revelation in for a moment. “Around what age was I then?”
“It was probably about four years after Mom died, so maybe ten? The first couple of years, I hadn’t been able to even consider looking at another woman. But once I hit that three-year mark, well, it became about a man having needs. It had nothing to do with wanting to move on from your mother. You know what I mean?”
It was hard to imagine my dad having sex, but unfortunately, I knew exactly what he meant. “Of course. I understand that now. And it’s not like you could have explained casual sex to me back then. If I’d seen you with a woman, I would’ve assumed you were trying to replace my mother. It would’ve upset me.”
“Well, that’s what I figured. So . . . I tried not to open up a can of worms. But honestly, if I had found someone special, I might have brought her around eventually, because it would’ve been nice for you to have a positive female influence in your life.”
I stared off, thinking about the fact that I did definitely crave a female influence the older I became. “There did come a time, as I got into my early teen years, when I really did wish that you could have found someone . . . not only for you but for me.”
“It wasn’t in the stars. I had the great love of my life, even if it wasn’t for long enough. And now . . . I don’t need anyone else besides you.” He smiled and knocked a few times on the table with his knuckles. “And I beat cancer. What more can I ask for?”
When I was a teenager, my father had been diagnosed with colon cancer. I remember thinking his diagnosis was the end of my life, because if I had lost my father in addition to my mother, how could I possibly go on? He was my everything. Thank God, by some miracle, the treatments worked and my father remained in remission to this day.
Dad got up and walked over to the nearly empty carafe, then lifted it. “Want another cup?”
“No. Unlike you, I can’t drink an entire pot of coffee without repercussions. Pretty sure if they popped a needle in your vein, all that would come out is Maxwell House.”
Maxwell House.
Maxwell.
That had just hit me.
The can had been sitting on the counter this whole time, but I’d only now made the connection between Birdie’s last name and the brand of coffee my father always used.
Maxwell House.
I wondered what the real Maxwell house was like. Then, of course, my mind wandered to Sebastian Maxwell—his gorgeous face and hair. The way he’d doted on his daughter at the park. Birdie said he owned a restaurant—I wondered what that was like.
“You still with me?” my dad asked, snapping me out of my daydream.
“Yeah. I was just thinking . . .”
“About Birdie?”
“Indirectly, yeah.” I drank the last drop of coffee and sighed. “Anyway, I hope she doesn’t write back. As much as I loved making those little wishes come true, I can’t keep doing it forever—playing God.”
He smiled. “Speaking of God, I don’t pray for much besides health these days, but I do pray that one of these losers you take for a ride as part of your job actually ends up surprising you and turns out to be a decent man. I don’t want to have to worry about you when I’m gone someday.”
“I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t need a man.”
“It’s not about finances. I know you’re a strong, independent woman, honey, but the truth is . . . everyone needs someone. The only reason I was okay after your mom died was because I had you.”
“Well, it’s a good thing my daddy isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.” I winked.
My visit with Dad lasted a few hours. After I’d stuffed myself with the yummy food he’d laid out for me, I called a car to take me back to the train station. Since Dad and I had shared a bottle of wine over lunch, I didn’t want him driving me.
When my father walked me out to wait for my Uber, he looked up at his weather apparatus.
He scratched his chin. “Hmm.”
“What?”
“Humbug says it’s gonna rain.”
Sure enough, as I traveled home that afternoon, the storm my father predicted came through, pelting the windows of the train. Then, after, a beautiful recurrence of the late-afternoon sun shined over the New York City skyline in the distance, filling me with hope and, much to my dismay—continued thoughts of Sebastian Maxwell.
CHAPTER 6
SADIE
I typed.
Sebastian Maxwell restaurant.
The keys clicked as I immediately deleted the words.
No, I can’t go there.
After a few seconds of staring at Google, I typed again.
Sebastian Maxwell restaurant New York.