To Brooklyn, With Love (Completed) - Finding You Book 2

Harrison

I'm exhausted. These last few weeks at work have been a train wreck and I can't wait to kick off my shoes and shed this suit. I loosen my tie as a slip my key into the lock, but there's pushback when I try to open the door, so I stop.

"Daddy," Sophie says. The door is only open a crack, but I can still see her cute little button nose. "You can't come in yet,"

I smile. This little girl has something up her sleeve.

"Soph. What are you up to?" I ask, crouching down to her level.

She opens the door a little more, then looks over her shoulder and says, "Hurry up, Brooklyn!"

Jesus. They're both up to something, and I don't know whether to be worried or thrilled.

Another few seconds passes and finally the door opens. I stand up slowly and meet Brook's eyes.

"You're early," she says with an arched eyebrow. Her hands are folded across her chest but the smile on her lips tells me she's in a teasing mood. It's a nice change, way different than the Brook that sometimes shows up, so I won't take it for granted.

"You said not to be late," I counter. It's true. I left half an hour early just so I could be sure. "Can I come into my house now?" I tease.

"Come with me," Sophie says, linking her hand in mine and walking toward the kitchen. There's a handwritten sign on the wall that says "Sophie's Sandwich's," and I look over my shoulder back at Brooklyn, who shakes her head and shoos me forward.

The table is set for three, with tall burning candle in the middle and a card with "Daddy" written in crayon the front in one spot.

"Wow," I say, taking it all in.

"Happy Birthday, Daddy!" She yells, spinning in circles. "You sit here," Sophie says, pulling out the chair. "Here's your menu," she hands me a folded piece of construction paper. The options are simple - white or wheat bread, smooth or chunky peanut butter, strawberry or grape jelly, crusts or no crusts. Number of layers - 1, 2, or 3. Chips or an apple for the side.

I lower the menu and look at Sophie, who stands next to me with a pencil.

"Circle what you want, Daddy," she instructs. "As much as you want,"

"Hm...let's see," I tap the eraser against my lips, carefully choosing the components of my sandwich. "Done," I say, reaching over to tickle Sophie's sides.

"Did you come up with this all on your own?" I ask her and she nods. "Yes. I'm in charge. Brooklyn's the chef, because I can't use a knife or open jars," she explains and I smirk as I look up at her across the room.

My lips part to mouth thank you, but the silent words never come. I'm stuck on her in this moment, in a pretty light blue denim sundress with capped sleeves and a white apron. Her brown hair is up in a messy bun. Her lips are pink and glossy and I swear her cheeks are glowing. I've always thought Brooklyn was gorgeous, but right now, I'm not sure I've seen anything more beautiful. And no...it's not because she's in my kitchen making me a sandwich. I'm far from that kind of guy.

"Daddy!" Sophie says loudly an I snap out of it, handing her my paper. She runs it over to Brook and together, the two of them work to assemble the perfect peanut butter sandwich. Sophie drops the slices of bread a few times and Brooklyn assures her the five second rule is in place and they'll be fine. There is something so calming watching the two of them work together.

I've been trying for weeks to get Brooklyn to eat meals with us, or watch tv with us in the evenings. She spends too much time locked in her room alone, and I worry. Whatever has brought about this change is a blessing, and I won't question it. I'm just going to enjoy it.