“No wonder you were so eager to come get your iPad so late. Another bomb, huh?”

“Let’s put it this way: he went to the bathroom more times than I could count. Either he had a bad case of diarrhea or he’s a drug addict. Either way, I’m all set.”

I broke out into a laugh. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. Let’s just hope he washed his hands each time before digging through the breadbasket.” She sighed. “Anyway . . . I’ll take my iPad and be on my merry way.”

“Oh. Yeah. I have it right here.” I scratched my head, momentarily having forgotten where I put it.

After I spotted it on the end table, I grabbed it. But not before tripping on the damn end table. Having her here was making me tense. I finally handed it to her.

“Thanks again,” she said as she took it. “I can’t believe I left this here. If it didn’t have all my notes on it from earlier this week, I might have been able to wait until the next time I came, but I have a deadline.” She looked beyond my shoulder. “I assume Birdie is asleep?”

“Yeah. Or possibly pretending to be asleep until she decides to sneak out of her room and steal a few cookies.”

She smiled, and it lit up her whole face. “Of course.” Her smile faded, and she backed up a few feet toward the door. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks again.” She lingered as if she wasn’t quite ready to leave.

The second she turned around, I felt this odd feeling, like the house went from warm to cold. And fuck. I wanted the warmth back.

Don’t do it.

Don’t do it.

“Sadie . . . ,” I called out.

She turned back around in an instant. “Yes?”

“It’s cold out. I usually put on some tea around this time . . . try to relax and unwind. Would you want to stay and have a cup with me before you hit the road?”

There was that smile again. “After the night I’ve had . . . a hot cup of tea sounds really good.”

“Great. I, uh, promise not to run to the bathroom every two minutes.”

She cackled. “Seriously. Who does that?”

Sadie followed me to the kitchen and sat down at the table. I grabbed the kettle and filled it with filtered water from the tap before setting two ceramic teacups down on the counter.

“Black tea okay?” I asked.

“Yes. I can have caffeine any time of night and still fall asleep.”

“Me too. Even coffee.”

“Same.” She grinned.

“You take milk . . . sugar? Or I have honey.”

“Just a little milk. Thank you.”

As I waited for the water to boil, I leaned back against the granite and crossed my arms.

“So, how often do you do your research per week?”

“You mean how many disastrous dates do I endure?” She laughed. “A few at most. That’s enough. It’s seriously scary out there.”

I felt oddly protective of her. “You always meet them in public, right?”

“Always.”

It honestly surprised me that she didn’t have her choice of any man she wanted.

“You know . . . I’m actually shocked that you don’t have better luck. You’re clearly attractive, smart . . . why all the losers?”

“New York is the problem, honestly. There are more women than men here. It makes the dating game tricky. You have to work much harder to find the good ones. And the good ones have their pick of many. I honestly avoid going out altogether when I’m not working.”

“I met my wife in college and never had to do the online dating thing. It’s one of the things I loved about being married, not having to worry about the logistics of all that.”

“It’s a huge time suck.”

The kettle started whistling, so I prepared her tea, adding a splash of milk, then the boiling water before steeping the teabag.

I placed the cups on the table and sat down.

“Thank you,” she said before blowing on the steam.

“So, today went well with the dog?” I asked.

“You’re clearly referring to the actual dog and not the dog I met tonight . . .”

“Yes, I was referring to the Duke.”

“The Duke.” She nearly spit out her tea. “I love that nickname for him.” She looked around. “Where the heck is the Duke anyway?”

“He sleeps when Birdie sleeps. Does that surprise you?”

“Not a bit. That’s so cute.” She beamed. “And yeah. Today was actually one of the better days we’ve had. He listens to Birdie so well now, which was the point of all this, right?”

“Was that the point? I thought the point of this was initially . . . a butterfly barrette, wasn’t it?” I teased.

Her face actually turned pink, and it was fucking adorable. She looked down into her cup, shaking her head. “I deserved that.”

“I’m kidding. You know that, right?”

“At least you’re laughing about it and not calling the police on me.”

“I wouldn’t have called the police on you. That was an empty threat.”

“Well, that’s good at least.”

“You’ll be happy to know, I sometimes think back and laugh at the ridiculousness of what happened,” I said, starting to crack up unexpectedly. “When you found out he was supposed to be trained in German . . . you must have inwardly freaked.”

She was laughing now, too. “You have no idea.”

“I’ve got to give you credit for even attempting to tackle it. That took some serious balls.”

“Balls and a dash of lunacy.”

Our eyes locked for a moment. There was something so comfortable about being around her. She always seemed familiar, even though I knew we’d never met before this whole thing with Birdie. Speaking of my daughter, there was so much I wanted to ask Sadie while I had her attention. But I didn’t know if it would be too intrusive. I took a chance.

“Do you mind if I pick your brain about something?”

“Sure. I think I managed to salvage some of my brain that didn’t get fried during my date tonight. I’ll be happy to offer up what’s left.”

I chuckled. “Okay. I appreciate that.”

She took a sip of her tea, then said, “What’s up?”

I rested my chin on my wrist. “I know you said your mother died when you were six and a half, just like Birdie. Looking back at your childhood with just a father and no mother, what, if anything, do you wish your dad had done differently?”

She nodded a few times and pondered that. “That’s an interesting question. I can see why you’d be curious about that, given you’re in the same situation.”

“Well, you have the rare gift of hindsight. I’m just trying to prevent making any mistakes along the way that might be avoidable. Birdie is still so young. I can’t imagine what things will be like when she gets into her teen years. If there’s a way to plan ahead . . .”

Her eyes moved from side to side. She looked like she was struggling to come up with an answer that would satisfy me. “There’s really nothing specific I can say I’d change when it comes to how my dad handled anything with me. I was always very conscious of the fact that my dad was doing the very best he could. What more could I have asked for? But what parents fail to understand sometimes . . . is just how much kids can see through them. I could always tell if my dad was depressed, even if he was trying to hide it from me. I really wish he had taken more time for himself and not worried so much about how things might affect me. Us daughters . . . we’re tougher than you think. And in the end, we really want to see our dads happy. Because that makes us happy.”