Isolation.
Loneliness.
A life where I run a successful business from the shadows while my daughter cries for someone who actually knows how to be there for her.
Another knock.
“Go away,” I tell whoever it is.
The door opens anyway.
I look up ready to snap at that fucking bitch Neli for ignoring a direct fucking order.
But it’s not Neli.
It’s Ben.
She’s standing in the doorway clutching Frederick against her chest. Her hair is in two lopsided braids that Neli probably tried her best to manage. Her eyes are red.
“Daddy?” Her voice is small. Uncertain.
I should tell her to leave. Protect her from seeing me like this too often.
Instead I hear myself say, “Come here,piccola.”
She crosses the room. Climbs onto my lap. Tucks herself against my good shoulder.
I wrap my arm around her and hold her close.
She smells like the lavender shampoo Jess used to buy. A scent that hits me like a punchto the gut.
“I miss Jess,” Ben whispers.
“I know.”
“Is she coming back?” Ben presses.
The question hangs there, heavy and impossible.
I want to lie. Want to tell her yes, of course, Jess will be back soon.
But I can’t.
“I... I don’t know,” I tell her instead.
Ben pulls back and looks up at me. She studies my face.
“Your scars don’t look scary to me anymore,” she announces.
The words hit harder than they should. “No?”
She shakes her head. “They just look like you got hurt. But you’re still Daddy.”
My throat goes tight.
This kid. This perfect, brave, beautiful kid who lost her mother and got dragged through hell by her father and still somehow finds it in herself to offer grace.
I don’t deserve her.
