Three months, one week, and five days. Ted, a forty-six-year-old widower and investment banker, repeated in his head like the lucky
numbers to a lotto ticket. Three months, one week, and five days. Three one five was the countdown to the end all of Ted’s recent stress and guilt behind
his body’s reaction to his eighteen-year-old stepdaughter. Daisy was as fresh, sweet, and innocent as her name. He’d married Daisy’s mother when she was eight years old. He’d had exactly that many years of marriage when he lost Daisy’s mother in a plane crash.
Suddenly, Ted was left raising a stepdaughter who no longer liked sleeping in her own bed. Even after grief counselors and school counseling, Daisey refused to sleep alone. The first year and a half wasn’t a problem. Hell, Ted secretly enjoyed the co
