and me that way. I’d never been sloppy before. With my girls, there was no room for mistakes, but with Becky, as I had quickly learned, all those rules were out the window.
Sarah shook her head and pushed her face further in my neck. My fingers went to her hair, and I turned my face to meet her cheek, planting a kiss there.
Why did every little thing have to be so damn hard? Letting go, moving on, learning to live without someone, and then figuring out how to fold someone new into our lives …
I hadn’t thought Sarah would be ready for me to date again. And as I gritted my teeth, I realized that accelerating my relationship with Becky without telling my girls first was the most selfish thing I’d ever done with my girls, and it was the first time I hadn’t put their emotions and their needs above mine.
If they weren’t okay, what was I going to do?
The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind, but my girls were young, and there’d be time for me later, right? To date, to love again, when they were grown and had lives of their own.
I swallowed as sadness hit me directly in the chest. The thought of ending this new thing with Becky already gutted me.
For a brief moment, I closed my eyes, my breaths matching Sarah’s, and I decided whatever my girls wanted, whatever they needed, it was my job to provide that. If, in the end, they weren’t ready, I’d have to accept that. That was something Becky would have to accept to, right? Would she wait?
Slowly, a breath escaped me. That wasn’t my priority now. My priority was the little girl in my arms.
When she pulled back, she swiped at her tears, and grief tore at my heart.
“I just miss her.” She sobbed, her tears falling relentlessly down her cheeks.
Good God, I hated seeing my girls cry. It took me a moment to speak. “I know. I miss her too. Every day.”
“And Becky …” Her voice trailed off.
I swiped each of her cheeks with my thumbs. “I know. I’m sorry …”
She placed her small, fragile hands on my cheeks, and her words stunned me. “I want you to be happy, Daddy.” Her eyes shone with tears, with heartbreak, and yet a maturity I’d never seen before. “I know you miss Mommy, and I know you’re sad about her and you have been, but I just want you to be happy, Daddy. I just want you to be happy.”
I tried to swallow past the giant lump in my throat, but I couldn’t.
This kid. My awesome, wonderfully made kid.
I didn’t deserve her.
Now, it was my turn as tears outlined my eyes. I pulled her in close, holding her with one arm and lifting the edge of my shirt to wipe my eyes with the other.
Thank you, baby girl.
But I couldn’t even get the words out. It took a good few minutes to pull myself together and place her back on her feet.
We walked in silence to the lounge chairs by the pool, and I sat down and pulled her into my lap.
I pushed her hair out of her face and smiled. “You know I love you, right?”
She nodded, her smile matching mine.
“And you know that everything I do, have ever done, is always with your best interest in mind. You know that, right, Sarah?”
“I do.” She reached for my hand and squeezed, turning over my fingers in hers.
“And above all … I want to make sure you guys are happy. Not only that you have the things you need and want, but that you’re happy too.” I blew out a long breath, wishing I were better prepared for this conversation. “When you say you want Daddy happy”—that same lump formed in the back of my throat—“you don’t know”—I swallowed—“how much that means to me because”—I lifted my eyes to hers—“I feel like I’ve been so busy, making sure you’re happy, that I forget about myself sometimes. By you saying that”—I cupped her cheek—“that means a lot to Daddy.”
She nodded, and it looked like she was going to cry again. “I know …” Her lip quivered as she stared at our hands. “I see you, Daddy. I see you when you’re not looking, and I know you’re sad. I keep thinking … maybe if I get better grades … maybe if I don’t fight as much with Mary, then maybe you’ll be happier. But now”—a small smile surfaced—“you’re different. Even