No Tomorrow

“Anytime. We played video games,” he replies. Ditra kicks off her heels and settles onto the couch next to him, kissing his cheek.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Ditra calls after me as I head for the front door. “And remember what I said!”

“What did Aunt Dee say?” Lyric asks on the way to the car.

I put my hand lightly on her head. “Nothing, sweetheart. Just big people talk.”

“Is it about me meeting my real dad next week?”

“No, but I’m very excited about that.”

She beams up at me. “I am, too! I have a present for him, but it’s a secret.”

“I think he’ll like that very much.”

A week from now one of my long-time wishes will be coming true. My daughter will finally meet her father. I’ve spent the past two and a half months having short, fun conversations with Lyric every few days, slowly trying to explain to her that Blue and I met when we were very young, and that he had to move away, how I wasn’t sure how to call him to let him know he had a beautiful little girl, and how we finally found each other again. It’s hard to explain a very complicated relationship to a child, but she took it all extremely well, and has been nothing but curious and excited. The last thing I want is for Lyric to feel like Blue didn’t want her or abandoned her.

Ditra is right, I have to forget the strange comments from the psychic and focus my thoughts on the positive things happening in my life with Lyric and Blue.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Lyric and I are meeting Blue at the park. Our park. It was Blue’s idea, and it feels right—to go back to the place we first met. The park is common ground, and a familiar place where Lyric feels safe and comfortable. Her school is nearby, and I bring her there sometimes because she loves the swings. There have been times, however, when I have avoided this park when I was especially upset or angry with Blue.

But those days are in the past, and hopefully will stay there where they belong.

Today is all about new beginnings.

Blue is already here waiting at our old favorite picnic table with his guitar case, and a Celtic harp. Lyric tugs on my hand as we get closer, and I can feel the excitement and nervousness emanating from her.

“Mommy, is that really him?”

I smile down at her. “Yes, that’s him.” She looks adorable today in blue jeans, tiny black combat boots, a white top, and a faded, distressed denim jacket. Her blond hair has been growing like a weed and is well past her shoulders now.

“He has a guitar... and a harp.” Her voice is soft and whispery with awe.

“He certainly does.”

Blue flew in on a private plane last night and insisted on bringing the harp he purchased for Lyric with him so he could give it to her himself. My first thought was to say no. I didn’t want him trying to buy Lyric’s acceptance, or spoiling her from day one. Then I realized this was about music for him. His passion. Giving his daughter her first musical instrument is much more than a gift. He’s hoping they share a talent and it will help them bond.

I hope so, too.

He’s smiling nervously as we approach, and stands to give me a quick, friendly hug which feels incredibly awkward considering this man has ravaged every inch of my body numerous times. Lyric hangs on to my hand tighter, and I squeeze hers back reassuringly.

“Lyric, this is your dad. His name is Blue.”

“Like the color?” she asks.

Blue laughs. “Yup, like the color.”

She cranes her neck to look up at him. “You’re really tall.”

Lyric has definitely inherited my petite genes. She’s shorter than all her classmates and looks much younger than most of them.

Blue kneels down in front of her and winks affectionately.

“Is that better?” he asks.

She nods, smiling shyly. “Much.”

“I’m really glad to finally meet you, Lyric. You have a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.”

“Why don’t we sit down,” I suggest, sensing a bit of shyness between them. Blue flashes me a grateful smile as we sit on the wooden bench. It warms my heart when Lyric chooses to sit between us.

“You have an earring,” Lyric observes, pointing to the feather that still flutters against Blue’s mane of hair. I can’t believe it’s lasted for so many years.

“It’s the feather of a pet bird I used to have.”

This, of course, fascinates her. “You had a pet bird? He didn’t fly away?”

He nods. “Birds make great pets, and no, he didn’t fly away.”

“How come?”

“I don’t think he knew he could.”

She giggles. “That’s silly. All birds fly.” She turns to me. “Right, Mom?”

“Usually, but I think it’s possible some don’t. Or maybe they just don’t want to.”

“I heard you want to learn to play the harp,” Blue says, bringing the harp closer. It’s bigger than I pictured, a little over three feet tall, and made of a beautiful tiger maple wood. “I have a friend who plays the harp, and she told me this one would be perfect for you. It used to be hers when she was a teenager.”

Lyric stares at the harp with wide eyes. “It’s for me?”

“It is... and guess what?”

“What?” she asks excitedly.

“She taught me how to play ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’ on it, so now I can teach you.”

The sheer look of amazement on Lyric’s face almost makes my heart burst with happiness.

“Can you play it for me?” she asks.

Grinning, he pulls the harp closer to him. He places his large hands on the strings, and plays an absolutely beautiful, angelic version of the simple lullaby. Something about his tattooed fingers moving over the elegant instrument is incredibly sexy. I shouldn’t be thinking such thoughts right now, but damn, I can’t help it. He just oozes so much subtle sexiness. I want to kiss him in the worst way but we agreed not to be too kissy feely in front of Lyric until she feels comfortable around him.

“That was beautiful,” I say when he finishes. “But I’m not at all surprised.”

He lets out a low whistle. “I’m surprised. I’m not used to all these strings.”

“Can you teach me now?” Lyric asks. “Just like you just played it?”

“Hell yeah, I can. I bet you’ll play it even better than me.”

I watch quietly as he shows her how to position the harp against her shoulder, how to place her hands on the strings and pluck them properly. It’s an easy song, and she picks it up quickly and plays it surprisingly well. Seeing Blue and Lyric together is like a dream. It’s clear she likes him and feels comfortable with him. She’s not pulling away when he guides her fingers to the right strings, she’s not looking to me for reassurance. I’ve never seen Blue interact with a child before, and to be honest, I worried he’d be awkward, quiet, and moody, but he’s doing better than I could have hoped.

After the mini harp lesson, Blue plays a few songs on his guitar at Lyric’s request, and she’s totally enamored with him by the time he’s done. A few people walking through the park stop to listen to him, but I don’t think they recognize him as the lead singer of a popular rock band.

“I want to play just like you someday,” Lyric wishes out loud. “Only on the harp with the strings up and down and not across like the guitar.”

“I think you’ll be an amazing harp player,” Blue says. “You just have to practice a lot. Like every single day if you can. And soon? It’ll become a part of you.”

“Since Blue was nice enough to bring you the harp, I found a teacher for you. You can start taking lessons in about two weeks.”

“This is like Christmas!” she exclaims. “A dad and a harp and lessons. I can’t wait to tell Uncle Josh!”

Blue’s smile falters and I cringe inside. Josh might still be a sore spot, but he’s part of our lives and Blue’s going to have to accept that whether he likes it or not.

Josh and I never did go on a date. Maybe we both realized it never would have worked between us.

Or maybe it was because Blue and I have spent almost every night on the phone together, slowly falling in love all over again.

Whatever the reason, it seems that all the pieces are finally falling into the places they’re supposed to be in.

After putting the instruments in my car, we take a walk through the park and stop to let Lyric play on the swings. Blue puts his arm around me and kisses the top of my head as we watch her pump her legs up and down, soaring high toward the sky and smiling at us.

“She’s awesome,” he says. “Do you think she likes me?”

I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him. “I think she’s crazy about you already, just like I am.”

“I feel like the luckiest man alive right now. It’s like fuckin’ torture not being able to kiss you, though.”

“I know. But tomorrow night we’ll have some time alone together.”

He pulls me closer, his hand tight with desire on my hip. “I can’t wait. It’s been a long-ass three months.”

It has. We haven’t seen each other since that night in the parking lot, but we’ve shared a lot of late-night phone conversations that ranged from deep to serious to sweet to sexy. I’ve been lucky enough to wake up to a few sensual and romantic emails that have been wicked forms of teasing foreplay, which I’m sure was his plan—to make me crazy for him.