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I haven’t felt this hopeful in a long time and even though I didn’t sleep at all, I enjoyed being wrapped in Andrew’s arms and imagining what the future has in store for us.
Which of course includes telling Alissa. We need to tell her that Andrew is her father and I want to make sure we do it the right way.
Andrew and I talk about it before we leave, and we decide that just coming out with it would be the best way. She’s had months to get used to Andrew and I’m hoping she will take the news well.
But there will most likely be damage control needed because she still harbors negative feelings towards her father due to him not being around.
I decide to take Alissa back home before we say anything. She’s beaming, happy with her new friends, and can’t wait to do it again.
Back at home, she greets her grandmother, while we sit on the couch and prepare mentally for the conversation ahead.
“Mom?” She looks up at me sharply. I think she could tell something was off by my tone. “We need to talk to Ali. In private.”
And just by the way she stands there looking back at me in the living room, I know that she knows I told Andrew the truth.
Mom puts her hands in the air. “Be careful what you say, Emily,” she warns me, and I close my eyes with pained anticipation.
While mom moves to the kitchen, Andrew waves Ali over with his hand and asks her to sit between us.
She heads over and sits between us, apprehensive.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asks in a worried voice.
“No, sweet pea,” I say, caressing her hair. “It’s something else.”
Andrew, who’s usually all animated around Alissa, tucks his hands in between his knees. He looks at us humbly and I see nervousness in his eyes.
“Remember all the times you asked about your dad?” I say gently. “Who he was, where he was?”
Alissa nods, looking at me with eyes as wide as a startled kitten’s.
“Well, Ali…” I take a deep breath. Here it goes. “Your father is right here.”
She blinks profusely, then looks around, confused. Andrew smiles but doesn’t say anything, just letting the news sink in for her.
“Mommy!” she interjects, angrily. “This is not funny.”
“Who else is in the room, Ali?” I say, “Besides me and you?”
Now she goes into shock. She looks from me to Andrew, who smiles and opens his arms.
But instead of a hug, she goes into a crying fit, and I have to kneel in front of her to try and calm her down.
“Sweet pea…” I reach for the coffee table, where a box of tissues lies. “This is a good thing.”
“No!” Alissa shouts. “I don’t want Andrew to turn bad!”
I look at Andrew, seeking help, but he looks baffled and turns to me for solace.
“She thinks her dad is bad because he left us,” I say.
I can see his heart break that very instant. But instead of self-pity, Andrew turns his attention entirely toward Alissa, caressing her hair and leaning so she can hear his hushed tones.
“I already said I’m sorry to your mom, but do you think you can forgive me?” She doesn’t answer but takes the tissue from my hands and begins wiping her eyes.
Andrew and I exchange pained glances, both of us struggling to contain the sorrow in our hearts. I was already expecting something like this, but I bet he was hoping for a better reaction.
“I’m not going to call you dad!” she cries out, sulking.
