I halt my steps as I pull my shirt over my head. I’m stumped on what to say next. It’s only school. Why is she so sad? “Does Amari not want to go?”
She sniffles. “She’s excited to go.”
My brows crease even more, confused by her sadness. “Okay. I still don’t understand why you’re crying.”I sit back down on my bed after getting my shoes on, wondering what my next move should be. Is this something I should be sad about? I thought this was a good thing.
“It’s just.” She pauses and sniffles again. “It’s always been the two of us. What if the other kids are mean to her at school, or what if her teacher is mean?”
“But we met her teacher, and you said you liked her.”
“I do, but that could be all a front for the parents.”
“Do you want me to come over? We can talk about this. I’ll help you calm down.”
“No. You work in the morning. I just needed someone to talk to before I went into a full-blown panic attack.”
I decided against telling her I’m coming, since women usually want the man to show up without being asked. Right? “Talk to me. What else is on your mind?” I ask to distract her from hearing me driving.
“She’s growing up so fast. I’m going to miss her.”
“Do you miss her when you go to work?”
“Of course. I cried like this on my first day away from her when I had to go to work and school.”
Luckily, she didn’t hear me start my truck when she was talking. I’m trying to get to her fast but also driving slowly so she doesn’t hear the engine. “I didn’t know you cried.”
"Well, you weren’t in the right state of mind around that time for me to call you and tell you.”
She’s right. I was still drinking my life away. I’m glad I’m able to control it now and that I’m in the right state of mind to be there for her. It’s the little things I once overlooked, the ones I thought didn’t matter, that I now see hold the most meaning—something I only came to realize after getting sober. It makes me happy that shefeels like she can call me and tell me how she feels, even if we aren’t together. I’ve always told myself I will always be there for my family, regardless of what happens. It’s what I told myself when we first found out she was pregnant. I know I fucked up a lot, even though I thought I was being there for them by providing for them. I now know there is a lot more that goes into being there for your family than just providing.
I slowly park my car, turn the ignition off, and get out of my truck.
“What was that?” she asks after I shut the door.
“I’m at your front door.”
“What?!” I hear shuffling. “I told you not to come.”
“I came anyway.”
"Kai, I look like shit.”
“I don’t care how you look. You’re always beautiful to me.”
“Ugh. Hold on.” She hangs the phone up.
A few minutes later, she swings the front door open, looking at me with wide eyes. I’m captured by her puffy red stare. She must have been crying way before she called me.
I take in her white, silky tank top nightgown that hangs low, draping over her curves and revealing the top of her breasts. The fabric catches the moonlight and her flawless skin, making my heart race and my breath catch in my throat. An intense ache for her builds, a longing that is always impossible to ignore.
She catches me staring at her and pulls her robe over her. I take a couple of steps until I’m right up against her and wrap my arms around her. She drapes her arms around my midsection, pressing her head into my chest, deepening our embrace.
She lifts her head, grabs my hand, and leads me upstairs to her childhood room that she still sleeps in. Our daughter is sleeping in the room next to her. She quietly shuts the door and turns to me. “Are you staying the night?”
“Do you want me to?”Please say yes.
She shrugs her shoulders. “If you want.”
It didn’t take me long to figure out what that means. “I’ll stay.”
