“You’re missing out. It’s one of my favorite things about your house. And the view… It’s incredible.”
I study her as she peers at the sun rising over the mountains in the distance, casting the world in various hues of pink and blue.
“Yes, it is,” I agree.
But I’m not looking at the horizon. I’m looking at her.
At the way the sunlight catches in her dark hair, making it seem more reddish-brown.
At the tattoo covering up the scar I think about more than I should.
At how damn beautiful she is.
And not just on the outside either. But what I find most beautiful is her heart. She’s so kind, caring, witty, charming. I’m drawn to her in ways I can’t explain. Ways I shouldn’t be, all things considered. But I can’t help myself. It’s why I’ve been inviting her to have dinner with us more and more, and not as our nanny.
Sensing my stare on her, she glances at me. I quickly look away and sip on my coffee, pretending she didn’t just catch me checking her out.
“I can’t remember the last time I watched a sunrise,” I say, needing to fill the space. “Probably the day Presley was born. She came right after midnight. Cora was exhausted, so I stayed up holding her.”
A few months ago, the memory would make my throat tighten. Hell, a few months ago, I wouldn’t even be sharing this with anyone. But it feels good to talk about these things. To remember the happy times. Not dwell on the loss or grief.
“I watched the sun come up through the hospital window and was so damn worried I was going to screw up this whole parenting thing. That I’d fail Presley. That she’d hate me.” I huff out a quiet laugh. “I still wake up with that fear. Guess it never really goes away.”
Rowan nudges my arm gently. “You have nothing to worry about. You’re a good dad, Hayden.”
“Some days, it feels like I’m barely holding on, as you’ve seen for yourself.”
“I think most parents feel that way. It’s a scary thing. You go into the hospital just the two of you and leave with an extra human. Pretty sure they do more vetting when you adopt a dog than when you have a kid.”
I chuckle. “I checked Presley’s car seat so many times before we left the hospital. All Cora wanted to do was take a shower and lie down in her own bed. But I needed to make sure Presley would be safe. Then I drove so damn slowly on the way home. I bet I never went over forty. Even on the freeway.”
Her laughter spills into the morning, and the unease that filled me when I first woke up slowly disappears.
This is exactly what I needed. A reminder that life isn’t all loss and grief. That you can still find something to laugh and smile about, even on the worst days.
“I’m surprised you’re up so early,” I remark after another brief silence, the swing creaking beneath us as we continue to rock. “Especially on a day off.”
“I’m a creature of habit. Plus, I can sleep when I’m dead.” The instant the words leave her mouth, she winces. “Sorry. Probably not the best phrasing, all things considered.”
“It’s okay.”
She meets my eyes, hesitating. “Are you ready for today? Is that even the right thing to say?”
“I’m not looking forward to it. But I’ve kind of grown numb to it. My father-in-law plans something likethis constantly. Services. Memorials. He even turned the kids’ birthdays into tributes to Cora.”
Her jaw drops. “He did what?”
“These days, his sole purpose in life is to mourn his daughter every chance he gets. That, and remind me she’s gone.” I roll my eyes. “As if I could ever forget. It’s more difficult on Presley than me.”
“Would you…like me to come with you today?” she asks. “Not as your nanny. Just…emotional support. Especially for Presley.”
I part my lips, about to tell her it’s not necessary, but stop myself. Presley has certainly been off the past few days. More irritable. Less social. Her therapist explained anniversary events can be traumatizing for survivors, which is why she suggested doing something fun to make new memories of today.
I doubt it would go over well with Robert.
But if Rowan were there, it might make it a little more bearable for Presley.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “You don’t have to.”
