I sighed, closed the phone, and looked down at my hands. They weren’t shaking.
“Now or never,” I said.
I didn’t know how to put this feeling into words. A few years ago, I’d have already been high, screwing it all up before I even got the chance to see my daughter. That version of me wouldn’t have made it here—not even close.
I wasn’t that person anymore. I had to remind myself of that. I’d worked too hard, clawed my way back from too much to fall apart now. I was stronger, better. I’d earned this moment, and no matter how scared I was, I wasn’t going to let my past define me anymore.
I smiled when I saw Nova bundled in a black puffer jacket and looked down at a little girl in a matching jacket with bouncy curls and bright blue eyes like mine.
“Nova,” I said as I leaned in and gave her a side hug, then I immediately dropped to my haunches so I was eye level with Scarlette.
“Hi, Scarlette,” I said and reached out my hand. “I’m Austin.”
The sweet girl smiled. It was her mother’s wide, joyful smile. “Mommy said you’re the one who thought about the museum. Thank you for including us.”
My gaze shifted to Nova, and I gave her a quick, grateful nod before turning my attention to the little girl in front of me—my daughter. The word still felt surreal.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, my voice softer than I expected.
“Ollie told me about this place on the phone last night,” she said, pointing up at the sign with a spark of excitement. “He said it was going to be really fun, and I was lucky to meet you. You’re a famous hockey player.”
I couldn’t help but laugh as I stood, glancing at Nova, who offered a sweet shrug.
“That’s what Ollie told her,” she said, her voice light and amused.
“Should we go in then? I’m getting cold waiting out here.”
They both nodded, and Scarlette skipped ahead, her little feet pattering against the pavement as she led the way toward the main doors.
“She calls him Ollie?”
Nova glanced at me, her expression gentle.
I wouldn’t have been upset if she called him Dad. After all, hewasthe one who raised her all these years, the one who had been there for everything I’d missed. I guess I was just surprised.
“Yeah…”
She didn’t finish the thought, but she didn’t need to. I gave her a shoulder squeeze and blinked quickly to keep my tears from spilling over.
Inside the museum, the day felt surreal, like stepping into someone else’s life. Scarlette darted from exhibit to exhibit, her excitement bubbling over as she explored, her laughter echoing through the brightly lit halls. I found myself stopping often, just watching her. The little girl I had only just met. The shock of it all was still fresh.
My daughter.
I checked my phone a few times, my heart tugging at Charlie’s absence. She was the missing piece to this strange new puzzle I was trying to figure out.
What surprised me even more was how I felt about Nova. There was a time when I’d been consumed by my love for her, when every part of me had been wrapped up in the life we were building together. Now, there was nothing there but admiration—for the daughter she had raised, for the life she had built, for the person she had become.
As Scarlette played, Nova and I caught up. She told me about their life in London, how much they’d loved it there, but how they had moved back to be closer to Luna. She mentioned Ollie working on his visa, hoping he’d be here soon, and I nodded, glad they had found a way to keep their family together.
She shared that she was now the social media manager for the Ravens, and I congratulated her, genuinely happy for her. It had always been her dream job back when we were together, and seeing her so fulfilled now brought a surprising sense of peace. Nova was happy, and I realized I was happy for her.
After a morning of exploring and laughter, we walked to the museum’s café for a snack before they had to leave. As Scarlette devoured her cookie at the table, Nova pulled me aside.
“I want to tell Scarlette,” she said softly, her words measured. “I’d like to bridge the conversation, if you’re okay with that.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The gravity of what she was asking settled heavily in my chest. Then I nodded, pulling herinto a hug. It wasn’t a hug of old lovers or lingering feelings but one of true friendship—of shared pain, of new beginnings, and of the shame and sorrow I still carried for how things had ended between us.
“Thank you,” I choked out, my voice breaking as the words left me. It was all I could manage, but somehow, it felt like enough.
