Page 57 of Whisper Sweet Nothings
Moments you don’t realize are even happening.
She’d captured them.
She was always taking photos with her phone or her Polaroid camera.
“You could also be a photographer if you decide on a career change,” I said, staring down at the photos. “You’re so talented.”
“I’m not the reason those photos are so special.”
“Thank you. I love these.” I cleared my throat, surprised how emotional I felt after looking at them.
“Daddy, can we give Winnie her present now?” Melody asked as she came bounding down the hallway in her hat and boots.
“Hey, I thought we said no gifts,” Winnie said, frowning at me.
“Are you seriously going to pull the no-gifts rule out when you just gave me a gift?”
“Fine.” She chewed her bottom lip.
Fuck. She was cute as hell.
Sexy and sweet and brilliant, all at the same time.
“Come on, Winnie,” Melody said, reaching for her hand.
“Oh, we’re going to the gift? The gift is not in here?” she asked, her brows cinched together.
“We’re going to the gift,” I said, leading her down the hall.
I’d worked hard on this room while she was gone, and I couldn’t wait to show her.
Winnie deserved a real office. She wrote a lot, and she should have her own space to work.
There was a bow on the bedroom door across from where my gym was, and she turned to look at me. “This is the guest room.”
“Not any-mores,” Melody sang out as she pushed the door open.
I’d found a vintage printer’s desk at the antique store in town, and I immediately thought of Winnie. She was an old soul, and she enjoyed the story behind things, such as furniture and art and other unique pieces. She was always asking questions when we walked through town, about where things originated, and how they’d come about.
“Daddy and me painted the walls your favorite color, safe green.” My daughter clapped her hands together.
“Sage green,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets because Winnie had yet to speak. Maybe this was too much.
What was I thinking?
It had started as just adding a desk to the guest room, and then I’d spoken to Emilia, who’d helped come up with a plan to transform the space for Winnie.
Emilia had talked to the girls, who’d framed a few of their favorite quotes from Winnie’s books and placed them on a chair in the corner.
She glanced up at the antique crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the room.
“Uh, Emilia said the light was a big part of setting the mood for your workspace,” I said.
She turned to look at me, and I startled when I saw two tears rolling down her cheeks. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”
“I can’t believe all that you’ve done for Melody. For us. This is just our little way of thanking you.”
“Winnie, are those sad tears or happy tears?” Melody asked, her brows cinched together with concern.
