I’ve commanded rooms full of men without blinking. I’ve signed off on things that would make decent people recoil. Yet, the thought of stepping closer to my own daughter feels like crossing a line.
What if I ruin her?
Then Andrea lifts her head.
Her gaze skims past her mother’s shoulder and locks onto me with startling clarity. Her face lights up, recognition dawning instantly, and before I can brace myself she wriggles free of Roxy’s arms and points.
“Bear!”
I don’t have time to react before she’s running toward me, her sneakers slapping against the pavement, her laugh ringingout bright and fearless. I crouch automatically, arms opening, and she launches herself into me without hesitation, small body colliding with my chest as she wraps her arms around my neck.
“You came back,” she says into my collar, as if it was never in doubt.
I lift her easily, settling her against my hip, and the world rearranges itself around the simple, devastating rightness of her weight in my arms. She smells like laundry soap and sunshine, and she fits there like she was always meant to. Something inside me gives way quietly, something I didn’t know I was holding back.
“Of course I did,” I manage, my voice rougher than I expect.
Roxy watches us, her eyes bright with emotion, and when she stands and steps closer, she does something that steals the air from my lungs. She rests her hand lightly against Andrea’s back and looks up at me, her expression gentle and steady.
“Andi,” she says softly. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
Andrea leans back just enough to look between us, her brow furrowing. She knows the way children do—has sensed it—that the last few days, the last week, have been off. “Okay.”
Roxy takes a breath. “Makari isn’t just our friend. He’s your father.”
Andrea tilts her head, studying my face with solemn intensity, as if weighing this new information against everything she already knows. For a moment I imagine her suddenly wanting to wriggle free from my grip, to get away and step back. Put distance between us.
I’d let her, even if it broke my heart. If she wanted nothing to do with me—I’d let her go.
The pause stretches, my heart hammering in my chest, and I brace myself for questions I don’t know how to answer.
Instead, she smiles.
“Oh,” she says, as if it explains everything. Then she tightens her arms around my neck and presses her cheek to mine. “I like that.”
I close my eyes, just for a second, because I don’t trust myself not to break apart otherwise.
Over Andrea’s shoulder, I see Louise standing in the doorway, her gaze fixed on me with an expression I can’t quite read. There’s calculation there, yes, but also something softer. When our eyes meet, she gives me a small, measured nod.
Later inside the house, the air is filled with the quiet chaos of reunion. David, home on a Saturday, seems uncomfortable with me here—stiff, glancing my way occasionally. Their son Peter is on the couch lost in an iPad, but Kat and Louise linger nearby, laughing with Roxy and letting Andi tell stories about their time outside of Boston.
Andrea chatters happily as she gathers her things, narrating every item she packs as if we might otherwise lose track of it, and Roxy hovers nearby, listening with a smile that never quite leaves her face.
Louise corners me in the kitchen while Andrea’s distracted, her presence kind but firm. Direct. The way Roxy talks about her, I would have thought she’d be more worn out; tired, and lonely maybe. Instead, I can see where Roxy gets her stubbornness. She pours herself a glass of water, then gestures for me to sit, her gaze never leaving mine.
“I won’t pretend I don’t know who you are,” she says plainly. “Or what kind of world you come from.”
I incline my head slightly. I owe her that respect; that truth.
“But I also won’t pretend I didn’t see how you looked at my daughter on that stoop,” she continues. “Or how Andrea looked at you.”
She pauses, letting the weight of that settle.
“You have my blessing,” she says finally, “as long as you always keep them safe. Not just alive. Cared for. Loved.”
The words feel like a charge laid directly at my feet.
“I will,” I say without hesitation. “With everything I have.”
