Chapter 8
Clara died three days later.
It was peaceful.
Sophie and I were both there.
Holding her hands.
One on each side.
She told Sophie she loved her one last time.
Told her to be brave.
Told her to listen to her daddy.
Then she looked at me.
"Take care of our girl," she whispered.
"I will."
"Thank you. For giving me these last days. For not running."
"I love you, Clara," I said.
And I meant it.
Not romantic love.
But something deeper.
Gratitude.
Respect.
Family.
She smiled.
Took her last breath.
And was gone.
Sophie didn't scream this time.
She just squeezed her mother's hand.
And whispered, "Goodbye, Mommy. I'll see you in the stars."
Then she turned to me.
Reached up.
I lifted her into my arms.
She buried her face in my neck.
And cried.
Quietly.
Brave.
The funeral was three days after that.
Small.
Just me, Sophie, Marcus, and a few of Clara's old coworkers.
No press.
No fanfare.
I'd made sure of it.
Sophie wore a black dress with pink flowers.
Her new sneakers.
She held my hand the entire time.
Didn't let go once.
When they lowered the casket, she squeezed harder.
But she didn't cry.
Not publicly.
She was being brave.
Like her mother had asked.
That night, we went back to my penthouse.
Our penthouse.
Sophie had been there twice before.
Just to see it.
Now it was home.
She walked in.
Dropped her backpack.
Looked around at the glass and steel.
"It's big," she said.
"Too big."
I knelt in front of her.
"I know. It's too big for just us. But we'll make it smaller. We'll turn the guest room into your room. Pink, if you want. With unicorns. Whatever you want. And soon, we'll find a real house. With a yard. For the puppy you want."
Her eyes lit up slightly.
"A real puppy?"
"A real one. But first, we have to learn to be a family. Just you and me. That's going to take some time. And we're both going to make mistakes. But that's okay. That's what families do."
She nodded.
Then she yawned.
The day had caught up with her.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?" she asked.
"In the big bed? Just until I'm not scared anymore?"
I picked her up.
"Absolutely. For as long as you want."
I carried her to my bedroom.
The biggest bed in the world.
We climbed in.
She curled up against my side.
Her head on my chest.
Listening to my heart.
"Daddy?"
"Yeah?"
"Is Mommy watching us right now?"
I looked out the window.
Up at the sky.
The stars were bright over the lake.
"I think she is. I think she's very happy we're together."
"Good."
She was quiet for a minute.
Then she said something that broke me and healed me at the same time.
"I miss her. But I'm glad I have you now. I always wanted a daddy. I just didn't tell anyone."
I kissed the top of her head.
Tears running down my face.
"I'm glad too, baby. More than you'll ever know."
She fell asleep quickly.
Exhausted.
I lay there.
Holding her.
Listening to her breathe.
The steady rhythm of her life against mine.
Six months ago, I'd been the loneliest man in Chicago.
Empty.
Numb.
Now I had a five-year-old daughter.
A heart full of love and grief.
And a whole new life to build.
It wasn't going to be easy.
I knew that.
There would be hard days.
Bad days.
Days when I'd want to quit.
But looking at Sophie's sleeping face, I knew.
I'd found my purpose.
May you like
The thing all my money could never buy.
Family.
