But I don’t because Dane and I were still there.
Still breathing.
Still needing a father.
What we got instead was silence, distance, and a man who lived like we were ghosts walking through his house, not children begging for scraps of affection.
So I cross my arms over my chest while he shares this version of his heart I’ve never seen before, even though I already know what kind of man he is.
I grew up knowing, and I believe him, that whatever part of him she made better died with her too.
“I never wanted children,” he says, almost absently.
I snort, a sharp sound that breaks the tension for a split second. “Yeah,” I mutter. “No kidding.”
He just nods. “Your mom did. She wanted a family, and I said okay, one child. I thought I could manage one. So we had Dane, and she was… she was radiant. I’ve never seen her so happy. Seeing her like that, loving like that, made me happy too. Then, ten years later, somehow, she got pregnant again.”
I’ve known what that meant for a long time. You don’t plan to have a child ten years after your first. I was an accident.
A mistake from the first breath I ever took.
He looks at me then, almost smiling. “She said you were a gift. She used to call you her miracle. She loved you, Alaina. She loved yousomuch.”
My chest tightens at his words, and when I glance up at him, my vision blurs without warning.
“She used to say you and Dane were the best things that ever happened to her.” Then his hand drifts, landing carefully on my shin, and I’m too choked up to pull away. “Every second of your life, you were loved, Alaina.”
Tears spill over without permission, and I hate how they fall before I can stop them. I wipe them with the side of my hand, but it’s no use. They just keep coming.
“Then she was gone,” he continues, his voice cracking around the edges now too. “And I was left with a ten-year-old who didn’t understand what death was, and a baby who needed more than I knew how to give. Your mother was the perfect mom, and because of her, it didn’t matter that I was a shitty dad. I was a good husband, good to her, and she was a good enough parent for both of us.”
He shakes his head. “But once she was gone, all you were left with was a bad dad who tried.”
I drop my hand and let out a shaky huff. “You think that excuses it?”
“I didn’t say I gave my best,” he replies. “And I’m not saying it was good. I just said Itried.I tried to give you a nanny who would love you when I didn’t know how. I tried to make sure you had the education your mother would’ve wanted. I tried to make your dreams possible. All of them. I wanted you to haveeverythingshe would’ve given you.”
I shake my head as the ache swells so big that it hurts tobreathe. “The only thing I wanted from you, Dad, wasyou.Some fucking fatherly love.”
His mouth pulls tight at the corners.
“You had that too,” he says after a long moment. “I just… I guess I’ve never been good at showing it.” He reaches for my good hand, carefully wrapping his fingers around mine. “I’m promising you, right now, from this second forward, I’m giving it my best. All of it. I’m going to be the father you deserve.”
The words hover in the air between us, and they might’ve meant more if I were still that little girl who used to sit by the door waiting for him to come home.
But I’m not, so I pull my hand back and let those words drift away on a phantom breeze.
“I wanted that father twenty years ago.”
Something flickers in his expression, regret maybe, or understanding that’s come far too late, but he doesn’t argue and doesn’t try to defend himself.
“I will always be your father…” he says instead, “… but I know now I have toearnwhat that means, and I’m giving it everything I’ve got to show you that I deserve that title.”
I look at him, then away again, because if I keep looking, I might cry even more, and I’m not sure if I’m crying for the little girl I used to be or the man in front of me trying, finally, to show up.
And why does he?
Why now?
