the pooch, Arnie stood slack-jawed in the middle of Summer’s living room. Flabbergasted by what he knew damn well was an epic crash and burn, he quickly came to terms with how badly he messed up.
The brilliant plan he came up with to woo his sunshine lady involved pretty speeches and balls to the wall groveling. He was prepared to suck it up and humble himself. This plan did not include ripping her clothes off the first time they were alone and fucking her like a sex-starved caveman.
No amount of bowing and scraping could make up for the monumental blunder he just made.
Dropping like a rock onto the sofa, he held his head with both hands for a few moments. While staring at his feet, he noticed two photo albums next to a stack of magazines on the bottom shelf of the coffee table. Curious, he pulled them out and set them on top of the table.
They were dated. One covered the months before Arianne was born, and the other was recent.
He thought about whether he was invading her privacy and decided if the albums were secret or intimate, they would be kept out of sight.
Flipping the cover open on the first, he was stunned to find the first page held a handwritten letter by Summer, explaining why she documented her pregnancy. Reading between the lines, he realized the album was for him.
He placed a hand on his chest over his heart and fought the urge to cry. Despite all signs to the contrary, she somehow still believed he’d return. She held hope in her heart. Hope for a future. A future she envisioned with him.
The realization was staggering and made his guilt for not finding her sooner all the heavier to bear.
Paging through the album, he found more than pictures. She kept parking passes and pregnancy brochures from a clinic. There were magazine clippings about what it was like to have a baby and how to prepare for motherhood.
Unable to look away, he studied the weekly selfies of her showing off her pregnant belly. She called the baby Tinker Belly after finding out the baby’s sex from an ultrasound picture affixed to a page in the album
Arnie studied the medical proof of his baby growing inside her. He was barely able to keep it together and marveled at the strength and courage it took for her to go it alone.
At the end of the album, a clear envelope affixed to the back cover held a flash drive and two camera cards.
The second album began with a picture of Lynda Gerry in a bulky orthopedic cast, holding a paper reading, “Sorry.” It took him a good long time to piece an explanation together why it would be on the first page.
Was Summer’s landlady her ride to the hospital? His heart sank when another possibility bit him on the ass. Was Lynda her birth coach too?
Oh, dear god. No. Please, no. Guilt like none he’d ever known engulfed him. He didn’t think he could stand it if she was alone when their baby came into the world.
On the next couple of pages, he found selfies she took during labor. Her face was flushed, and she looked a little rough, but her eyes showed no fear—just determination.
A photograph of mother and child taken in the delivery room included a note thanking her labor nurse, Jessica, for snapping the picture. It was all the proof he needed to grasp the certainty of Summer giving birth alone.
A colorful, decorative birth certificate announcing the arrival of the baby put a big smile on his face. It wasn’t a legal document, but he didn’t care because right there in beautiful calligraphy was an acknowledgment of his paternity.
Arianne Leigh born October 7th to parents, Arnie and Summer. A symbol drawn to represent the balanced scales of Libra drew his attention. He wasn’t big on tattoos, but with his father getting inked up, maybe it was time to soften his stance. After all, it’s not every day a father shares a birth sign with his firstborn.
His sunshine girl commemorated every day of their daughter’s life, no matter how humdrum and ordinary. She snapped photos of everything. Ari asleep. Ari taking a bath nestled in a gigantic flower. Ari in a pink tutu. Ari in a purple onesie. Ari with a headband, and Ari with a beanie cap.
He couldn’t help his grin and didn’t try. His kid was beautiful—maybe the most beautiful baby girl on the planet. With a