Page 96 of Knot By Design
“She’s nice,” Maisie adds. “And she has pretty hair. And she listens. Some grown-ups don’t listen.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Some don’t.”
She leans back, glasses reflecting the sky as it shifts above us. “She’ll like the cookie.”
“I bet she will.”
Maisie hums softly and presses her hand against the window, tracing shapes on the cool glass. The drive stretches on, the long straight highway giving way to winding roads and dips of land carved into soft hills.
She watches it all with those new lenses, taking in details she probably hasn’t seen clearly in months—maybe longer.
The thought sits hard in my chest. How many things did she miss because no one bothered to look close enough?
I grip the wheel and breathe in slow. Whatever comes next—whatever Amber and I need to figure out—Maisie’s here now.
She’ll be taken care of. Paid attention to. Seen.
She deserves nothing less.
We pull into Knightly Blooms, and Maisie nearly flies out of the truck. She misjudges the pavement and stumbles. I catch her by her armpits before she faceplants.
“Whoa. Easy.”
“The ground is moving,” she protests.
“That’s the glasses. You’ll get used to it.”
She nods, but she still grips my hand tighter as we head inside.
The bell above the door jingles. Maisie gasps like she walked into a fairy tale. “It’s so pretty. Everything looks so bright now.”
I glance around, and yeah, she’s right. The place smells like lavender and citrus. Fresh arrangements sit everywhere, each one balanced in color and shape. Norah’s touch is all over this place.
Norah steps out from the back, wiping her hands on her jeans. She’s in light denim and a faded T-shirt, hair twisted into a loose knot.
She looks… rested. Softer.
She spots Maisie and instantly smiles. “There you are.”
Maisie sprints toward her and wraps her arms around Norah’s waist. Norah folds over her, laughing into the top of her curls.
“Well, look at you,” Norah says, pulling back. “What do we have here?”
“Glasses!” Maisie twirls, nearly knocking into a bucket of roses.
“They look amazing,” Norah says, touching Maisie’s cheek lightly.
Maisie thrusts the cookie at her. “This is for you.”
Norah presses her hand to her chest, eyes warming. “A cookie just for me? That’s too sweet.”
Maisie nods proudly. “You can have it with cocoa.”
“Oh, can I?”
“Yes,” Maisie says as if it’s the law.
I watch them together, and something in me untangles. When Norah straightens and looks at me, her smile shifts. It’s soft. Almost shy.
