“I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks for taking Faith today. Hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”
“Get the fuck out of here with that noise. We loved that girl before we knew she was yours. She’s always welcome here. And now that Rory and Faith are “BFFs To The End of Time” and that’s a direct quote, you can expect my daughter at your house and yours at mine. Though you and I are gonna be having a talk about this little shit named Andy.”
“Right? Leigh-Leigh told me I can’t hunt him down and wring his neck, though I will be finding the kid’s dad. The little fucker tries to kiss my daughter I won’t care he’s eight, that shit ain’t happenin’.”
Rhode damn near busted a gut laughing, but Holden didn’t see the humor. He was dead serious. No boy was putting his lips near Holden’s daughter.
32
“And this was my seventh birthday.” Faith proudly pointed at the picture of herself and her friends all in silly hats on the beach.
Holden smiled and ran his finger over the edge of the plastic-covered corner. The same way he’d done with each picture Faith had stopped on to tell a story.
There was something about how he touched the images, reverently, worshipfully, adoringly. And the way he stared at the pages of the album as Faith flipped through, like he was trying to soak in the memory.
It was both heartbreaking and heartwarming. He’d missed out on everything.
Faith got to the last page and announced, “That’s all of them.”
“But you’re eight,” Holden retorted.
“Mom hasn’t made that one yet.”
“You haven’t?”
“I make them right before her birthday,” I explained.
“And on my birthday we look back over the year. It’s a tradition.”
I smiled at Faith’s excitement. What had started as me spending my daughter’s birthday looking back over the last year with a sadness only a mother understands, reminiscing, noting how much she’d changed and grown, had turned into something more. And I loved that Faith was always anxious to look at the album I made her.
“So on your ninth birthday, you’ll get your eight-year-old album?”
“Yep.”
Holden looked over at me and my breath caught—unbridled emotion. He wasn’t hiding anything from me and in turn, he wasn’t hiding anything from our daughter. He was showing us both he’d enjoyed looking over Faith’s life.
“That’s cool of you, Leigh-Leigh.”
“Does this mean you’ll stay and be my dad?”
Every muscle in my body contracted, my eyes felt like they were bugging out of my face, and I would swear I was experiencing heart failure. I couldn’t feel it beating, or maybe it was beating so fast that it was one continuous flutter, making me light-headed.
“Wh…what?” I stammered, unable to get my breathing steady enough to ask more.
To Holden’s credit, he didn’t look as freaked out as I did. Actually, he was grinning.
“Why would you ask that, doll?”
Faith shrugged.
“Because you’re my dad, right?”
No, I was experiencing heart failure now, and I was definitely dizzy. When neither of the two adults in the room spoke—which would’ve been the thing to do, except I was having an out-of-body episode and Holden looked like he was in shock—Faith looked between us, then continued.
“You’ll stay this time, right?”
Holden’s shoulders jerked and his torso followed. Thankfully, we were sitting down or Holden would’ve fallen on his ass.
There was no malice in Faith’s question, just innocent intrigue.
“Yeah, Faith, I’m staying. And, yes, I’m your dad.”
“And that’s why you wanted to look at my books?”
“Yeah. I wanted to see everything I missed. It’s not the same, nothing will ever make up for the time I missed out on being with you and being your dad. But I still want to see the pictures and hear all the stories.”
Faith nodded like she was a thirty-five-year-old woman and she found Holden’s answer acceptable. I, on the other hand, was confused. Unless my daughter had somehow come into magical powers that included mind reading, I wanted to know how Faith knew Holden was her dad. Unless she was just being an eight-year-old girl who wanted a dad however that came to be.
“Why’d you ask if Holden was your dad?” I’d softened my question with a smile, but when my daughter bit her lip I wasn’t sure if I’d succeeded. “Honey, I’m just asking why you’d think he’s your dad.”
“He is, right? And he’s gonna stay with us. He won’t leave this time?” Faith’s voice had gone shrill and her eyes darted around the room.
The eye thing was her tell—when she got upset she didn’t hold eye contact.
“Yes, he’s your dad. What I’m asking is, how did you know?”
When her teeth sank into her lower lip and tears sprang in her eyes, I reconsidered my line of questioning.
“C’mere.” Holden lifted Faith off the couch and set her in his lap. Immediately her little body melted into his.
I wished I had my camera. I wished the situation wasn’t what it was because that would’ve been a great picture to include in Faith’s album.
Daddy and daughter. Faith leaning into Holden looking for comfort.
God, we screwed up.
“Faith, I’m not leaving, no matter what. When I left your mom, I didn’t know…” Holden paused and I held my breath, waiting to see how Holden was going to explain to an eight-year-old the circumstances surrounding him leaving me. But what I didn’t even think about was taking over the conversation. That wasn’t because I was a chicken shit, but because I trusted Holden would do his best. And together we’d answer her questions.
“I didn’t know your mom was pregnant with you. And when she found out I was…” There was another pause, this one longer, this one painful. I swallowed the lump in my throat that was so big it was a miracle it didn’t choke me. Holden had tears in his
