Now as I drive home to my place, tracking down my dad feels like the least of my worries. Without Hazel in my life, nothing else matters. She promised she’d tell me when the babies arrive, but I doubt I’m still welcome in the delivery room. I’m giving her space, but at this point I don’t have much hope she’ll invite me back into her world.
I had my chance and I blew it.
As I turn onto my street, my breath hitches. Is that her Mercedes in my driveway?
There’s no sign of Hazel in the front seat or on my porch, so she must’ve made use of her key. A fresh flicker of hope fills my chest as I walk through the door.
“Hazel?” I almost don’t dare to hope that she’ll answer.
“Back here.” Holy shit, it’s really her. “In the nursery.”
I walk down the hall with my heart in my throat and my pulse thrumming thick in my ears. “What are you doing h—oh, wow.” Blinking, I take in the scene.
Hazel stands twisting her hands in her skirt at the center of the room. Beside her is a fully assembled classic Hot Wheels Sky Crash Tower. There’s a three-foot tall spiral track complete with jumps and an elevator, plus a motorized booster to launch cars.
Swinging my gaze back to Hazel, I struggle to grasp what’s happening. “Er, you bought me a Hot Wheels track?”
“I did.” Wincing, she rests a hand on her belly. “It seems sort of silly in hindsight. Like I could buy your forgiveness with some toys you wanted as a kid.”
“Uh—you can.” Wait, let me rephrase that. “There’s nothing to forgive, Hazel. I’m the one who screwed up.”
“You’re not,” she insists, stepping toward me. “Or at least, you’re not alone in screwing up. I got caught up in believing I knew what’s best for you. I failed to trust you like you deserve to be trusted.”
“Okay.” I’m sure there’s a trap here. “But I did lie about visiting prison.”
“And I lied about dropping money on the floor at the grocery store.” She shrugs, and I’m not sure I follow. “I also consciously chose not to tell you I paid a big team of lawyers to help get my dad transferred. I worried you’d judge me, and I couldn’t bear the thought of not being perfect in your eyes.”
“Oh, Hazel. It’s okay, honey.”
“It’s not okay. I behaved badly, and that’s not all of it. I lost sight of who you are. Who you really are—the man I know you to be.”
My gaze drifts back to the Hot Wheels track. “A grown man who plays with toy cars?”
She laughs. “Well, yes. I thought it could be something you’d enjoy with the girls when they’re older. The pink ones are cute and?—”
“Holy shit!” Is that what I think it is perched at the top of the track? “You found a ’69 rear-loading Beach Bomb?”
“I—yes.”
I force my gaze off the cars, since I’m sensing this isn’t the point. “You didn’t have to do this, Hazel.”
“I know, but I wanted to show you that I see you. I wanted you to feel even one tiny fraction of how good I’ve felt each time you’ve turned up with exactly the thing I’ve been needing. Emergency rambutan, a house call for crib assembly, pulled pork, the world’s sweetest stray cat. Various forms of fried potato.” She gives me a shaky smile. “At every turn, you’ve truly seen me and recognized what I needed even before I did. I never knew how good that could feel until you came along.”
She’s got my attention now. Screw the cars. “Are you saying you can look past what I did?”
“I already have.” She pulls in a deep, cleansing breath. “That’s what I meant about recognizing who you truly are. You are, without a doubt the kindest, most trustworthy, thoughtful man I’ve ever met in my life. You take care of others, putting everyone else’s needs before yours. You’re gentle with children and animals. You’re strong and reliable, but tender, too. I don’t know if you realize how rare that is.” She takes a step toward me, her watercolor eyes shimmering. “I know in my heart you’re a good man, Luke. Just like I know you’ll be a great dad.”
“Aw, Haze.” I’m struggling to swallow past the lump in my throat. “That means a lot coming from someone as perfect as you.”
“I’m not perfect.” Her eyes flash with conviction. “Not even close, and neither are you.”
“Um—thanks?”
“I mean it, Luke. I got so wrapped up in striving for perfection. Expecting it of myself and of you, which is stupid. Good people aren’t perfect. That’s just obnoxious.”
I laugh. “Good point.” I order myself to get serious. “I lied to you. I know I shouldn’t remind you of that, but I need you to know I’m sorry.”
“I understand why you did it.”
