Page 104 of Songbird: Black Kite
Chapter sixty-one
Hawk
Present
Iwassofuckin’nervous, I thought I might pass out.
After our talk—and after I’d reacquainted myself with the pussy of my literal dreams—I’d taken Wren to get her car from her office, then followed her back to her place. Charlie had agreed to wait at the rental house, his disappointment that we hadn’t eaten his prepared lunch lessened by the fact that Wren asked him to join us for dinner at her place later.
I tried not to be jealous of their easy camaraderie, even after all the years that had passed, but I failed. Wren seemed so comfortable with him, while she always appeared to be guarding her words with me. I knew it was a trust thing, that the bullshit lies that Tori had fed her had severely damaged her opinion of me, but I held out hope that it wasn’t irreparable.
My mother would tell me to let my actions speak louder than my words, so that was what I was gonna do.
In the meantime, I was about to meet my daughter, officially, for the first time.
Wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, I sat in the cozy living room, waiting as I had been told while Wren went down the hall and asked Cooper to join us. I could hear them, their low voices just a murmur floating down the hall, and I wondered what she was saying. Was he telling her who I was, or did she plan to wait until we could tell her together.
I suddenly wished I’d asked Wren what her plan was before we arrived at the house, but I’d been so eager to get here, I hadn’t thought about anything else.
“I’ll be right there,” came the disinterested teenaged voice, and I felt the corner of my mouth kick up in a grin.
The girl was sassy, that was for sure. She reminded me of myself at that age. I knew everything there was to know, and no one could tell me any different.
Unable to sit still any longer, I stood, making my way around the tidy living room and inspecting the array of photographs and artwork displayed on various shelves and tables.
There were a few portraits and candids, as well as some sketches that I knew right away had been done by Wren, the confident strokes so familiar to me from the countless hours I’d spent staring at her envelopes.
There was also a ton of what looked like school photos, showing Cooper through the years, her hair in different styles, even one with her two front teeth missing. My chest tightened as I took in the proof of all the years I’d missed, all the little moments and milestones I’d never experience.
All the things Wren had been forced to do on her own.
I made my way around the room until I stopped on one photo in particular, leaning in to look closer.
It was Wren and Cooper, this time on what looked like her first birthday. Cooper had her hair in two adorably short pigtails, each one pointing straight up off the top of her head so they looked more like a pair of antennae than anything else. She was wrapped in Wren’s arms, the two of them seated at a table behind a cake covered in bright pink icing, a single candle standing in the middle. Neither of them was looking at the camera, instead focused on the cake before them where Cooper had both her fists buried, too impatient to wait for a slice.
Both my girls were grinning from ear to ear, looking like they’d never been happier.
I was glad, but I felt the loss of that experience like a shot to the heart.
“She’s on her way,” Wren said, and I spun to see her standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Apparently, you can’t just walk away from a video game like you could when we were kids. There are too many other people involved, I guess.”
“I guess,” I echoed, sounding as awkward as I felt.
Jesus Christ, I just wanted this to go well. I needed Cooper to give me a chance.
We stood there in silence, waiting on the whims of a fourteen-year-old girl, and I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.
Finally, after what felt like forever but was probably only a few minutes, Cooper’s bedroom door opened and she came down the hall, head bent over her phone as her thumbs moved a mile a minute.
I was once again struck by how beautiful she was. She had her mother’s face, the delicate bone structure and high cheekbones giving her an elfin appearance, but she had my dark hair, only missing my gentle wave. Where I wore mine just long enough that it could tuck behind my ears, Cooper had hers flowing down her back, long enough that it nearly brushed her elbows.
She was incredible, and I couldn’t believe she was mine.
“’Sup, Mom?” Cooper asked, dropping down onto the couch, almost exactly where I’d been previously sitting.
“Coop, I need to discuss something with you,” Wren started. “Can you please put the phone down?”
She huffed, but after a few more quick movements of her thumbs, Cooper complied. When she lifted her head and saw me standing there, she sat up straighter.
