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“She’s walking!” Dakota exclaims again, her voice bubbling over with excitement. “She’s actually walking, Wyatt. Look at her go!”
Every other worry dissolves as I drop to my knees, my arms outstretched to my girl’s toothy grin. “Come here, baby girl. Come to Daddy,” I call out, my voice choked with a lump of emotion.
Vi’s baby greens lock onto me, her smile widening, and she stumbles her way into my waiting arms. The impact when she bumps into my chest is the sweetest collision of my life.
“Hi, baby,” I whisper, peppering her face with shaving-cream kisses—her cheeks, her lips, her tiny button nose. “You did it, sweetheart. You’re a little walker. I’m so proud of you, baby girl,” I breathe out, my voice thick.
“Dada!”
The wave of relief and awe that hits me is so potent, it nearly knocks the tears out of my eyes.
Dakota’s standing by the leather couch, snapping pictures with her phone, and I wish I didn’t have shaving cream smeared on half my face, or that I had on real clothes, or that my eyes weren’t watering because there’s a stench in my baby girl’s diaper that’s stronger than nuclear waste, but that’s parenting for you—never quite camera ready.
Still, I wouldn’t trade a photo of me with my little girl for the world, even if I’m a mess in it.
Dakota sets her phone down on the granite counter, studying us with a half-smile that’s full of emotion. “I like this version of you. A lot.”
I pick up my daughter, balancing her on my hip. Now that she’s mobile, things are going to get a lot crazier. “What version?”
She gestures to my bare chest, nibbling her lip. “The dad version, and basically any version.”
I walk toward her with my girl on my hip, dropping my voice to a teasing lilt. “Oh yeah?” I say, tickling Vi’s stomach until she squeals. “You think walking around with a baby girl that definitely needs her diaper changed is hot?”
Vienna giggles at that, so she thinks my joke is funny, but Dakota doesn’t laugh. She looks at me with this warm smile that’s half joy, half… not sadness, but something nearby. Yearning? Nostalgia? I can’t tell.
“You mean,” she starts. “Do I think being a reliable, trustworthy man who knows how to care for another person is attractive? Yeah, I do. I know what a good father looks like, and you, Wyatt Patterson, are one of the best.”
Her words strike me deep.
A lot of the time, I question whether I’m getting this whole dad thing right. I try to shake off the worry that I might be messing up with Vienna, taking it one day at a time, but it gets to me—not having a partner to share these moments with.
I want someone by my side through all the highs and lows of parenthood. I never realized just how much I needed to hear that validation. My throat’s too tight to even murmur a thanks.
Vienna makes grabby-hands at Dakota. “Dee-dee!” she squeals, at least, that’s what it sounds like to me.
Dakota startles at the noise, like she’s surprised my daughter would even remember her, but my girl’s got good taste in people.
“Hi, little devil,” she says in a choked-up voice, taking her from me to smother her face in kisses. “Or maybe I should call you little walker now. I’m so proud of you. We’re gonna have to put a gate on that spiral staircase now so you don’t become a little climber.”
That one extra thought for my daughter does me in. She’s thinking of my girl’s safety, and it makes me want to get down on one knee right in this living room, but I need to figure out my future first because I’m not asking her to change her plans for me.
As I watch her set her phone down, her glossy gaze meets mine, and I notice the moisture pooling in her brown eyes.
“Are you crying?” I ask, half joking, but I also need to know because I rarely see her cry.
She swipes at a corner, a small laugh mingling with a sniffle. “Yeah, but I don't know why. I guess I just didn’t know little things could feel so big.”
She kisses my girl’s cheek, and seeing Dakota like this, all vulnerable and open, hits me hard. She’s usually so guarded, and I pull her in, giving her a solid hug. “You don’t need to give me a reason. I know. I’m glad this moment happened with you, too.”
“You know something, summer boy?” she says, keeping her damp eyes on my daughter.
I kiss the top of her hair. “Yeah, honey?”
She breathes in deep and kisses Vi’s nose. “I think I’m falling for your little summer girl.”
I hold her close at that, my daughter sandwiched comfortably between our bodies. “Fall as hard as you want; we’ll be here to catch you.”
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