Her face visibly drops. “Why not?”
I don’t know how else to explain it to her. “Because Declan can’t be your daddy. Mommies and Daddies usually love each other, baby, and Declan and I don’t love each other.” I swallow the bile in my throat. I hate this conversation, but I don’t want to lie to Autumn either. That’s not how I want to raise my daughter.
“But Dec lovesme, right?” she asks.
Fuck.
“Of course he does, baby.” Okay, I might lie to my daughter sometimes, but this is by far the most stomach-turning lie of them all. But I can’t bear to tell her that he doesn’t love her. It will break her huge heart.
That seems to pacify her for the moment, but the dad questions and comments are starting to worry me. I never knew how anxiety-inducing this subject would be, and I’ve managed to avoid it up until the last few months. I feel like her saying Declan is going to be her dad is a cry for fatherly love. And it didn’t escape me that she’s been attached to him at the hip the last few weeks whenever we’ve seen him.
It wasn’t just some dream she was having when she said she loved him last night. She meant it.
When we get home from the coffee shop, I text Declan.
Me: I need you to do me a favor.
Declan: Anything.
Me: If my daughter asks you if you love her, I need you to say yes.
Declan: I don’t understand…
Me: I might have lied to her and told her you loved her. I also explained to her why you can’t be her dad.
Declan: And what did you say?
Me: The truth. That we don’t love each other, so you can’t be her dad.
He doesn’t respond, and I’m starting to think he’s going to go back to avoiding me.
I’m dishing up Autumn some of my famous crack chicken for dinner when there’s a knock at the door. I look through the peephole, and Declan is on the other side.
I open the door, and Autumn immediately rushes and envelopes him in a hug. He doesn’t hesitate and wraps her up tight. “Declan. Mommy said you don’t love her, so you can’t be my daddy.”
Her face is full of sadness, and Declan doesn’t confirm or deny her statement; he simply tells her, “I am your friend, though.”
It takes a moment, but Autumn’s lips tilt up and she beams. “You’re my friend too.”
Declan returns her smile with one of his own, dimples and all.
“Okay, go eat, Autumn,” I interrupt.
Declan and I make eye contact, and we stare at each other for a beat. “Hey,” I say lamely.
“Hey. Sorry. I just wanted to stop by instead of talking over text.”
I nod my head and cross my arms. “I think the problem is solved.” I peek over my shoulder at Autumn, who is now eating and watching her tablet. “I’m sorry for putting you in this position. I know I shouldn’t have told her you love her, but I panicked,” I whisper to him.
He shakes his head. “No. It’s okay. She is my friend and I care about her a lot.”
I search his face for the lie, but he seems genuine. “Right. Good. Um… do you want to have dinner with us?”
“Um… am I allowed?”
Now that Autumn is convinced Declan and I are just friends, and I’m more relaxed from Declan confirming that fact to her, I think dinner is acceptable. But for now, I know we need to put the benefits part on hold. My daughter is extremely perceptive, and it didn’t take long before she made the assumption that he and I were a couple. As her parent, I have to be the voice of reason. It doesn’t matter how much I want the physical side of Declan’s and my relationship because, at the end of the day, my number one priority is protecting my daughter’s heart.
“You’re our friend,” I say with a smile and shrug my shoulders.
