Sophie zipped the lunch bag and grinned. « Not if Daddy teaches you. Then it’s bonding. »
Mark tapped the brim of her pink fishing cap. « That’s right, kiddo. »
« That’s a boy’s hobby, Soph. »
I smiled because they were sweet together.
But sometimes, it stung.
Fishing was their thing. Every Saturday before sunrise, Mark took Sophie for hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls, then drove to the lake where his father had taught him to fish.
I knew which socks bothered Sophie’s toes. I knew she still liked being tucked in.
But Saturdays belonged to Mark.
I knew she still liked being tucked in.
***
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