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My daughter. I repeat it a few more times in my mind but it’s still wildly unbelievable.
“I am, Sadie. I’m very nice.”
“And you play hockey,” she says with a nod of her head. “But somewhere far away.”
“I do play hockey, but I play here now. In Seattle for the Blades. Have you heard of them?”
“With Pops! They’re my favorite team,” she says, dramatically throwing her head back.
“Mine too.” I laugh. “Even though they’re brand new.”
“Yeah, they’re still the best though. Cuz Pops bosses them.” She yawns and rubs her eye.
“You tired, kiddo?”
“Yeah.” She sighs. “Will you read me my story?”
“Um,” I hedge, looking to Isla for guidance here. Her nervousness is evident, but I plead with my eyes. I don’t want to say no to the first thing my daughter asks of me.
“I’ll come with,” Isla says cautiously.
“Sure, Sadie, I’d like that.”
She bounces back up to her feet, leaving the photo of me discarded on the floor. She reaches a hand down to me, and I smile at the girl no bigger than a Tater Tot offering to help me up off the floor. I accept her help and laugh when she grunts and throws her whole body into trying to pull me up.
She doesn’t let go of my hand as she leads the way to the bedroom I used to share with her mother. Everything about the room is different now, even the bed, that’s been replaced by two smaller ones. One queen, one twin in the corner that is obviously designated as Sadie’s space. Twinkling lights hang over the bed that’s laden with stuffed animals.
Sadie merely pushes them around until she’s found her happy spot in the middle of them and points to a book sitting on a small, but very bright pink, nightstand.
Two pages into Stellaluna and Sadie’s eyes are barely staying open.
“Maybe that’s enough for tonight, kiddo. What do you think?”
“I know that’s right,” she says sleepily. “Will you still be here tomorrow though?”
“Maybe not here, here. But I’ll be around from now on. I promise.”
She smiles and lets her eyelids close. As badly as I want to go talk to Isla, I don’t leave. Instead, I watch my daughter fall into a soft snore.
My daughter. Mine.
She’s perfect, too. Of course, she is, with a mom like Isla and an auntie like Willa.
“Hey,” Isla calls from the doorway in a hushed whisper. I look up and she motions for me to follow her. I do but only after I pull a blanket over Sadie and watch her snuggle into it.
I find Isla in the kitchen pouring two glasses of bourbon.
“What the fuck, Isla?”
“Don’t you start with me, Wylder,” she says, shoving a glass into my chest. “I fucking told you. And then everything… you don’t know shit about anything.”
“You’re damn right I don’t, because you didn’t tell me.” I drain my glass. How am I expected to keep my cool in this situation? I have a four-year-old daughter that I had no idea existed. “How did she know I was her dad?”
“She’s always known. I didn’t hide it from her. I’m not a liar.” I don’t miss her accusation. I didn’t ever lie to Isla, not directly anyway. I omitted and I evaded, for sure. But if I lied, it was to myself, not her.
“It’s equivalent to a lie not to tell me though, don’t you think?”
“I did tell you! And had you ever asked for more information, I would have given it to you,” she says, her eyes alight with rage. “If you don’t believe me, ask your girlfriend. I’m sure your dick in her mouth didn’t impair her hearing.”
