patience. And so much love. Real love. The kind that doesn’t expect anything in return.”
“I took that for granted,” he said. “The love she had for me. The love she used to have for me. I figured it’d always be there no matter what I did. Or didn’t do. Maybe you were right about the size of my ego.”
“She still loves you. She has too big of a heart not to. She’s kind and smart, and she amazes me the way she sees the world. Sometimes I look at her and I think...” She laughed softly. “God, I think, how did I get this kid? This sensitive, sweet-natured kid who’d rather read than be outdoors? Who forgives easily, who is slow to smile and who is so careful?” She shrugged. “Then I realized I got her because we made her. She’s us, Neil. The very best of us and, at times, the very worst. Mostly, though, she’s herself.”
“The first time I held her,” Neil said, “I wanted to put her down and run away. I didn’t want anything to do with her or you. I’d hurt you and I’d turned my back on my own morals, something I’d promised myself I’d never do—I’d acted just like my old man. On top of that, there was this baby and she was so tiny, so delicate and fragile.... She was my responsibility and I had no idea what to do.”
“And you thought I did?”
“Yeah,” he said slowly, “I did.”
“I was a mess, Neil. I was sixteen, a kid myself. I had no idea how I was going to graduate high school, let alone take care of a baby.”
“You never let it show,” he told her, and she was proud that he, at least, hadn’t seen how terrified she’d been. “You were so confident. ‘This is what I want,’ you’d say, then you’d figure out a way to get it.”
He was right. She’d acted as if she had everything under control. When he’d come to the hospital the day after Bree was born, she’d told him how to hold their baby, how much to feed her, when to burp her.
“You didn’t need me, Maddie,” he said simply, watching the game. “Not like you thought you did.”
Their eyes met and something personal and real passed between them. Understanding. Acceptance.
The game ended and they stood side by side waiting for their kid to join them, just like other parents. Like a real family. Even though her team had lost by one goal, Bree was proud, her smile lighting up her face as her teammates congratulated her and each other for a good game.
“The other night, when you admitted what you’d done—” He lowered his voice, ducked his head close to hers. “When you admitted you got pregnant on purpose, you told me you were sorry but that you didn’t regret it.”
“That’s right,” she said, unable to ever regret having Bree.
“For the record,” he said quietly, “I don’t regret it, either.”
* * *
BREE RAN OFF the field toward her parents. Parents. Wow, that was sort of weird, even thinking of them in that term. Sure, they were her parents but usually they were her mom and her dad. Separate.
But today they’d watched the second half of the game together and there were even a few times when Bree glanced over, that they’d been smiling and laughing. It was sort of...nice.
“Good game,” her mom said, wrapping Bree in a hug even though Bree was all hot and supersweaty.
“Thanks,” Bree said, stepping back.
“Great job,” her dad said, holding his hand up for a high five.
Telling herself she wasn’t disappointed, that she didn’t want to hug him anyway because she was still mad at him, she slapped his palm. “But I didn’t score.”
“It’s not always about scoring,” he said. “You helped your team, were a team player and you gave one hundred percent effort.”
She still wished she would have scored. Next game, she decided. The next game she was going to put the ball in the net.
She felt sort of grown up when he talked to her like this, instead of how he usually sort of asked her the same questions that he should already know the answers to. How was school and what did she and her friends do for fun and how did she spend her free time?
She didn’t trust him, wasn’t sure she wanted him in her life, but he had let her wear his lucky necklace. Remembering it, she scratched the back of her neck,