The Girl Who Spoke With Her Hands — The Secret of Ashcroft House

“Could I ask you again?” he said.

“Ask what?”

“For dinner.

A real date.”

I thought about the months he had spent learning to parent, not for an audience but for his daughter.

I thought about the boundaries we had maintained and the friendship that had grown in their place.

“Yes,” I said.

He looked almost startled.