Page 121 of Ice Darling

My hands still in her hair.

“Do you like her too?”

I think about Delia’s soft brown eyes, pretty smile, and the sweet side that she keeps hidden behind her giant bike and leather jacket. My feelings toward Cordelia are complex and a little dangerous. I’m not sure how to describe them.

“Do you?” Gordie presses.

“I like that you like her,” I admit softly.

Gordie smiles and nuzzles deeper into the pillow. “Daddy?”

“Yes, pumpkin.”

“Can Delia be my new mommy?”

Shock reverberates through me, and I stare down at my daughter in her moon-themed pajamas as her eyes fall shut completely and her breath evens in sleep.

Chapter Forty

Sasha: Any new updates?

Brenda: I’m not sure. I thought they’d be further along by now. They’re being so CAREFUL. :(

Sasha: These things can’t be rushed, Brenda.

Brenda: They’re not kids anymore!

Sasha: Even so, your son has a daughter to consider. I respect him more for treading carefully.

Brenda: I just want them to date already!

Sasha: After everything you’ve described to me, I think they pretty much are. Even if they haven’t admitted it to themselves yet.

Brenda: You have far more patience than me, Sasha.

Sasha: Actually, I’m very impatient, but I’ve learned that with investing, waiting for the right moment is your very best superpower.

Brenda: When will we know it’s the right moment for them?

Sasha: When they figure it out for themselves.

Chapter Forty-One

Cordelia

It’s Sunday, and I have both a sweatshirt and my regular leather jacket laid out on the bed. The trusty leather jacket’s been with me for years, and I rarely wear anything else.

I trail my hands against Renthrow’s sweatshirt. Somehow, it feels right to wear something other than my jacket today.

Slipping the sweatshirt over my head, I throw on some lip gloss and head out the door.

To my surprise, there’s a man standing outside my apartment. I lurch back before recognizing that it’s Brennon. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt, vest, slacks, and brown loafers—looking like the stereotypical “finance bro.”

I used to be surrounded by exact replicas of him all over the city, yet seeing Brennon wear that outfit in a town as laid-back as Lucky Falls makes me want to throw him in a Henley and work boots.

“What are you doing here?” I slip into the hallway with him. “Shouldn’t you be at the stadium by now?”

“I’m not going to that stupid game,” Brennon says, rolling his eyes.