Stefan
“Are you living with Mom again?”
I look up from the stack of papers on the counter and see my daughter is standing in the entrance to the kitchen, expression suspicious.
Tiff glances up from where she’s making cookies, her eyes connecting with mine. She wordlessly picks up the bowl, tucks it away in the fridge, and walks out of the room.
I close the folder, turn to my daughter. “Why do you ask, honey?”
“Because we haven’t been back to the other house.”
I open my mouth.
“And your stuff is in Mom’s room.”
I close it again.
“And you and Mom have been spending all your time together.” A beat as she looks down at her sock-covered feet, toes flexing lightly against the hardwood floor. “Like you used to.”
My throat tightens.
“Before you said you guys were getting a divorce.” Her voice is quiet now and sad, enough that my heart squeezes tightly, the guilt tying my insides into knots creeps up my throat, threatens to steal the words from my tongue. “Are you going to get married again?”
Another squeeze.
Because now sad has been replaced by hope.
And, God, I have so much I’ve fucked up.
So much to make up for.
All because I was too much of a coward to face something hard.
I inhale, eyes sliding closed, knowing that my doctor was right—it’s not me needing to take care of Roxie and Brit, not me wanting to protect them…or not completely anyway.
It’s fear.
Of whom I’ll become because of this illness.
Of how I will need to lean on those around me.
What it will make me if I’m not the one who everyone relies on.
“Dad?”
I exhale, peel open my eyes, and look at my beautiful, amazing daughter. “I need to talk to your mother about that.”
Her little body is still. “So…you are?”
Dammit.
I push off my stool, move over to her, crouching in front of her and taking her hands in mine. “I don’t know what’s going to happen between your mom and me—”
She scowls. “That’s just something grown-ups say when they don’t want to answer a question.”
I almost laugh.
Because she’s too fucking smart for her own good.
But that’s not the right response, not right now, not when this is too important.
“Rox, honey,” I say. “I want to answer that question. I want to tell you that your mom and I are going to get back together and everything is going to be totally fine and that we’re going to go back to the way things were before.”
Her eyes slide away.
“But I really—”
“Did you fall in love with someone else?” she asks.
I blink. “What?” I shake my head. “No,” I say. “Of course not. Your mom is the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
She looks back, hope blooming across her face. “Really?”
“Yeah, baby. Really,” I tell her. “But I messed up and I hurt her, and it’s not going to be easy to make that right.”
“What’d you do?”
I touch her cheek. “That’s an adult topic for an adult conversation.”
She scowls.
“And you can get mad or demand I tell you, but I’m not going to.” I touch her cheek again. “All you need to know is that I messed up big, baby girl. I hurt your mom and I feel awful, and I’m going to find a way to make it right.”
“You hurt Mom?”
The accusation in her tone slices deep.
But I’m not going to deny that this shit is my fault.
“Yeah, baby,” I say.
“Why?”
That’s the fucking question of the hour, isn’t it?
I exhale. “Even adults make mistakes.”
Her brows furrow. “Have you tried saying you’re sorry?”
God, my beautiful, sweet girl. I cup her jaw. “That’s a great idea, baby.”
Eagerness creeps in. “Mom likes it when you say sorry.”
I nod.
“And she likes presents too,” she says.
“Yeah?”
Rox starts to smile. “You should buy her a Squishmallow.”
My mouth ticks up. “You think Mom would like that as an apology present?”
A solemn nod. “Yup. She takes Danny Dino with her on every road game.”
The other half of my mouth curves. “That’s true,” I agree. “So, will you help me pick out a friend for Danny?”
She tilts her head to the side. “Are you going to apologize after we get it?”
I incline my head. “I’ll give her the biggest apology ever.”
“And then will you make us all pizza again?”
I ruffle her hair. “You just had pizza a couple of days ago.”
“So?”
“So,” I say, “I think we should expand our meal choices a little bit, don’t you think?”
She wrinkles her nose.
“How about we hit Target and see what looks good?” I ask, tugging at a strand of her hair. “And then we can pick out a friend for Danny and Mr. Fluffernut while we’re there.”
Her eyes light up. “Can we go right now?”
I chuckle at the enthusiastic question, but nod, knowing she’s been going more than a little stir crazy not being able to do all of her normal after-school sports and activities, especially since it will still be a good while longer before her doctor-mandated rest will be over.
And she’s like her mama.
She likes to be busy.
She likes to be helpful.
She likes to get shit done.
So, I don’t fight it, don’t point out that she’s already been to brunch today and played video games with Dan all afternoon. I don’t remind her that Tiff is making her cookies while on her study break (and also, because she’s trying to avoid the terror known as her mother).
I just ruffle her hair again and straighten, say, “Yeah, baby girl. We can go right now.”
“Yes!” She fist-pumps.
I tilt my head toward the stairs. “Go get your shoes on, and we’ll head out.”
“Okay, Dad!” she says and starts running from the room, and, God, if I could bottle her powers of recovery, I’d be unstoppable.
I start stacking papers, setting them to the side.
“Dad?”
I pause, look up, see that she’s hesitating in the doorway. “Yeah, baby girl?”
“Does this mean I don’t get two Christmases?”
My mouth drops open.
But I don’t get a chance to answer.
Because laughter has me jerking, my gaze shooting toward the hall.
And everything in me goes absolutely still as I see Brit standing there.