Glancing over at her grandmother, she plopped down on an ottoman. "I don't know what to do." She admitted to the three people in the room. "I've disappointed you once again."
"Stop this nonsense right now." Adelaide ordered. "You could never disappoint us." She did not look at the other two for confirmation. "You will go ahead and meet with this man. Zoe deserves a father. This cannot be about you. He's obviously anxious to be her daddy. Let him. She can only be better off for it."
"I agree with Mama." Her father rose and came to sit in front of her. Taking her delicate hands in his large ones, he studied her coral painted nails before lifting his head to her face. "We have to start thinking about that sweet little girl. Tell her the truth, or as much of the truth as you can, and get it over and done with."
"Daddy, I'm scared." She whispered. The fact that she had reverted to calling him a name she had when she was a littlegirl broke him to pieces. He wanted to fold her against him and assure her it would be all right.
"I know, baby." Lifting their joined hands, he brushed them against his weathered cheek. "But we're here for you. Just do the right thing."
Abigail wiped her eyes, drawing in a shaky breath as the room settled into a heavy silence. She felt the weight of their expectations but also the net of love holding her steady.
For a moment, she simply listened to the quiet: her father's steady presence beside her, her grandmother's unwavering gaze, the gentle hum of reassurance that, no matter what happened next, she was not alone. The fear hadn't vanished, but it felt just a little less paralyzing.
She squared her shoulders and nodded, determination flickering in her eyes. "Okay," she whispered, mostly to herself, "I can do this."
*****
He received the text early the next morning. It was terse and to the point. 'I'll meet you at the publishing house where you'veset up office. Make it ten. I have a meeting and cannot get away before then.'
The abrupt manner was fine with him. He had spent last night tossing and turning and dreading that he was going to have to drag them through a lawsuit. That was not the way he wanted to start a relationship with his daughter or, for that matter, her mother.
He shot back an equally abrupt one as it dawned on him that he needed to see documentation of his daughter's years before he knew about her. 'If you have photo albums of her from birth to now, I'd appreciate you taking them with you.'
The reply was so long in coming, he thought she wasn't going to respond. Then another terse response. 'Will see what I can do.'
'Thanks.' He sent back and shut down his phone.
At least they were communicating, he mused wearily. Leaning his head against the solid mahogany headboard, he tried some deep breathing. A careless seduction five years ago had changed his life. Forever.
He had a person, a small person who was depending on him. He had lost four years of her life, including the nine months she had been inside her mother's womb.
He missed doctor's visits and the anxiety of being in that delivery room to watch her take her first breath outside the safe cocoon of her mother's uterus. He had missed everything and wondered if she had told him of the pregnancy, would he have graciously and excitedly accepted it?
He could honestly say no. His first instinct would have been to question whether or not he was the father. Yes, he had been the one to take her innocence, but after two months, he would have figured she would have been with someone else.
Did she have a lover even now, he mused, and wondered at the slice of pain that went through him. Was another man involved in his child's life? He wasn't going to allow that. But if that was the case, what right did he have to put a stop to it?
He had forfeited the right to tell Abigail what to do with her life. He hadn't stayed, had he? He had spent that one glorious night with her and left without looking back.
Despite his resolve, guilt gnawed at the edges of his conscience. Memories of that night returned in flashes: her laughter, the warmth of her hand in his, the silent promise in her eyes.
Regret mingled with longing, making it impossible to disentangle the past from the present. He wondered if Abigail had struggled alone, facing each milestone in their daughter's life without him, and whether she had found the support she needed in his absence.
Instinctively, he knew she had. She lived with her parents. He had done his research. The brother, a twin, was a lawyer who lived on his own. But she had chosen to stay at the home she grew up in, had chosen to bring up their daughter there.
He wanted nights with Zoe, where he got to tuck her in bed and read her bedtime stories. He might be late to the table, but he had every intention of making up for it.
He would take her to museums, the park, and the zoo. Did she like popcorn? What was her favorite ice cream flavor? He intended to find out all of it.
Scrubbing his hands over his face, he decided that he wasn't going to get any more sleep. Swinging his legs off the bed, he padded into the bathroom. A shower and then some work to take his mind off the upcoming meeting.
*****
He wasn't the only one wide awake.
Abby spent the night twisting and turning in bed. She had gotten up to check on Zoe several times. The conversation between them came flooding back.
She had picked her up from ballet practice and suggested they go for ice cream. Because it was too cold for a walk in the park, she had taken her home and sat inside her bedroom and told her the truth.
