“Hmm.”
I realize far too late how that sounded. “I mean, I know stuff online is only half true. But…”
He doesn’t respond. In the heavy silence that follows, it occurs to me that I am the Mr. Darcy of this situation. I’m the one who thought he was beneath me. I have made judgment after judgment about this man based on what? I don’t know him. I didn’t know him, anyway. But I think I know him now.
“The thing is—” he starts to say.
“I’m sorry,” I say at the same time.
“Go ahead,” I murmur.
He pulls in a deep breath and releases it slowly. “That was me. I can’t deny it. But it’s not me now.” He takes my hand, squeezing like he’s reassuring both of us. “Imogen’s mom…” he scratches his jaw.
He doesn’t want to talk about this, I can tell. I run my thumb across the back of his hand to encourage him.
“When Cassidy left us, Imogen was a wreck. We’ve both healed a lot, but you’ve probably noticed some of it still. She’s clingy. Worries too much. She tries to fill in like a mom would…”
I don’t know how I haven’t connected the dots before now, but he’s exactly right. My heart breaks for the little girl who doesn’t understand why her mom is gone and the anxiety and fear that go along with that.
“Cassidy just… left us. Left her—her own daughter. Yeah, I partied and I wasn’t the greatest guy. But seeing how much Cassidy hurt Imogen? That’s all it took. I realized I don’t want to be that person.” His voice rumbles like thunder and the tension in the air has gathered around us like static electricity. Lightning is going to strike soon. “I’m not that person anymore.” He recites the words like a mantra.
“You’re not. I can see that.” My voice is soft.
He’s gone quiet, and I can’t make out his face in the darkness. I need him to know that I see the real him, but he interrupts my thoughts, repeating my words under his breath like he’s inspecting them for truth. “I drag my daughter around the world like a toy.” Next it sounds like a question—an angry, lashing question. “I drag her around like a toy?”
“Anders, that’s not…”
“Hmm.” He kicks his feet over the side of the bed.
“Anders. I didn’t mean—”
“I know. I just need to think. It’s fine.” He squeezes my knee through the thick blankets, but his voice is robotic. “Just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable in here.”
He’s across the room before I can think of anything that will make this right. He twists the knob and without turning around, whispers, “G’night, Sunny,” into the dark.
22. Anders is So Far Gone
“Dad.”
I groan into my wafer-like pillow. “Five more minutes, Ollie…” My mind goes black.
“Ugh! Dad! You gotta get up.” Imogen’s mouth is close to my ear now, tickling me into consciousness. “I made a surprise breakfast in bed for you and Sunny.”
I run my hands down my face, trying to wake up. It’s still dark. Why can’t I get this kid on a normal, human schedule? The frustrating thought takes me back to last night, and the talk I had with Sunny. Her words drag through my mind, barbed and scratching at my perception of my parenting.
Because I know she’s right.
It doesn’t feel great to recognize that I’ve done so many things wrong at the cost of my daughter’s wellbeing. But this is my career and my life, and she’s my daughter. I’m not about to leave her on other continents or across the country while I do my job like Cassidy did. I don't know where to start to fix this. It’s a problem with no easy solution, but I’m determined to make it right.
I can’t worry about this right now. I already spent half the night tossing around and thinking about it, which is why I feel like—
“Ugh! Dad!”
“Okay.” That came out sharper than I intended, and I instantly wish I could suck the word back into my mouth. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t sleep very well.”
“It’s okay.” She pats my shoulder. “Come on. Your breakfast is gonna be cold.” She wraps her hands around my arm that is dangling over the side of the bed, pulling with all of her bird-like strength.
“Hey, isn’t breakfast in bed supposed to be in bed?”
