She finally opens her eyes, smiling sleepily. “Morning, Dad.”
“Happy birthday. A big thirteen today.” God, I almost sound choked up. I pull her into a hug. “You’re growing up so fast. But you’re still my little girl,” I say into her hair, then lean back to kiss her forehead. “Even when you’re fifty and looking after me.”
“Ew. I can’t wait, Dad.”
Stretching out, she sits up in bed. Her face and features are becoming more and more like a young woman’s, and it almost scares me. She’s the same height as Clodagh. “I wish your mother could see you,” I say with a sad smile. “She’s still with us every day, you know. She’s watching over you.”
“I know.”
“You know I love you more than anything in the world, right? It doesn’t matter how old you are.”
“Dad.” She groans. “I can’t handle you like this.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a very cool dad.”
I receive my first eye roll of the day. “Sometimes. You’re not as bad as Becky’s dad. He does awful silent farts and thinks no one notices.”
“Glad to hear the bar’s so low.” I chuckle. “Your roller skates and photo printer are downstairs.” At thirteen, I have to ask her what she wants because there’s not a hope in hell I’ll get it right. “But this is something extra I wanted to get you. It matches your beautiful eyes.”
She takes the necklace with her name engraved in blue stones. “It’s beautiful, Dad. Thank you.”
As she wraps her arms around me, I scoop her up for a bear hug. There’s no better feeling in the world.
“Are you excited about meeting the floppy-haired pop star kiddo tonight?”
“Stop calling him that.” She huffs. “He’s like the best singer ever.” Her eyes glaze dreamily. “This is going to be the best night of my life.”
Christ. No pressure. The floppy-haired popstar better be nice to my daughter. He’s getting enough money from me.
“We have dinner with Gran and Connor first. Make sure your friend Becky is ready by six o’clock.”
She nods. “Should I invite Clodagh?”
I frown. “It’s a family dinner. Your grandma will be there.” I pause for a moment, swallowing hard. “Do you want to invite Clodagh?”
She shrugs. “She said the restaurant was on her bucket list. She seemed really jealous when I told her I was going for my birthday. She’s kinda okay.” Coming from my daughter, that’s a massive compliment.
I should be thankful Clodagh and Teagan get along. “Invite her if that’s what you want. I want you to be happy.” I pause. “There’s something else I want to talk to you about.”
Her eyes widen, and I can see the wheels turning in her head, wondering if she did something wrong. “What is it? Am I in trouble?”
“No, I am,” I say. “I’m sorry for not listening to you. I met with your ballet teacher last night. It turns out, she knows me and has an issue with me.”
Her teacher’s husband once worked for me and got fired. Had I known that, I wouldn’t have sent her there. Since she still uses her maiden name professionally, I didn’t make the connection.
“Does she have something against me?” Her big, worried eyes break my heart. I’m a terrible father; everything I do impacts my baby girl.
“Princess, it’s me. It’s all me, not you at all. We’ll get you into a different class.”
And I have Clodagh to thank for bringing my mistake to my attention.
I kiss my daughter’s head and stand from the bed. “I’ll meet you for breakfast in twenty, okay?”
***
I walk into the kitchen to find Teagan and Clodagh talking loudly.
“You two seem happy,” I interrupt, eyeing the pancake stack with cream and fruit, topped with a lopsided candle. “What’s this?”
“Clodagh made a birthday breakfast,” Teagan chips in cheerily before Clodagh can answer.
I lock eyes with her as I take a seat at the kitchen island beside Teagan.
“She doesn’t have to eat it all,” she says quietly. “I know it’s a bit naughty for breakfast.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“Check this out, Dad. Clodagh made it for me.” Teagan pushes a wooden box in my direction. Inside it are tubes and bottles of hair products.
I turn it around, trailing my fingers over the Celtic design. “You made this?” I ask slowly, pausing to look at Clodagh. She even engraved Teagan’s name on it. Did she do this in her studio?
She nods shyly. “It’s just a little token. Nothing fancy. It’s made with a kind of wood we call ‘Irish mahogany’ coz it’s used in a lot of furniture at home.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say quietly, my voice thick with emotion.
Something twists in my stomach as I slowly turn the beautifully crafted gift over in my hands. I’m a horrible fucking man.
“Be careful, Dad. Those are the products Clodagh uses in her hair,” Teagan announces proudly, looking shyly at Clodagh. “So I’ll be able to do my hair like hers.”
“That’s great,” I say, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. I set the box down and reach for a pancake, my heart swelling with joy from seeing Teagan so happy. “Just use a tiny amount first to make sure that you don’t have an allergic reaction. You don’t need to use stuff like this at your age.”
“You have no clue about hair, Dad!” she tells me, outraged, and then turns toward Clodagh. “Dad said you can come with us to dinner tonight if you want. Are you coming?”
“Uh.” Clodagh’s eyes turn into saucers. “I don’t want to impose on you guys.”
“I insist,” I say after clearing my throat awkwardly.
She stares at me for a while, trying to decide whether I’m sincere. Eventually, she nods and murmurs, “Okay.”
“Awesome!” Teagan squeals excitedly.