The living room hadn’t changed, not one bit. The sofa was the same faded rose pink, the area rug the same worn green. I almost expected to run into my old self, perched on the edge of the checked wing chair, waiting for Ali to be ready for a date.
Instead, she stood at the bottom of the steps, one hand on the newel post as she called upstairs. “Bridget! Come on down, honey.”
Loud scrambling footsteps echoed above us, and within a few seconds, a dark-haired tornado raced down. She came to a screeching halt at the bottom of the stairs, breathing hard and staring up me. And just like that, I was looking down into my daughter’s face.
Her eyes were the first things I saw. They were wide and brown, the exact same color and shape of Ali’s. Her nose was a cute little button, and I realized it reminded me of Maureen’s. Perfect rosebud lips were slightly parted, and then they curved into a grin, and my breath stopped.
My daughter had my dad’s smile, the mischievous curl of the mouth and the answering twinkle in her eye. I never thought I’d see it again, and yet . . . here it was.
Without thinking about it, I knelt down next to her. “Hi, Bridget. I’m . . . Flynn.” I’d planned to say Dad, but at the last minute, I chickened out. I didn’t want to force anything before she was ready. “You’re incredibly beautiful, you know that?”
She cocked her head at me, so reminiscent of her mother. “Yeah, I know.” Oh my God, this kid had attitude and confidence. I loved it.
“Do you want to come sit down and talk a little?” I motioned toward the sofa, unsure of what else to say.
“Why don’t you go out onto the porch?” Ali spoke, and I looked up at her. I’d nearly forgotten she was standing there. “It’s a beautiful afternoon.”
“Okay.” Bridget started toward the door, and then she stopped and stretched out her hand to me. “Come on.”
I let her lead me out the door and to the swing. Ali leaned out, holding onto the screen.
“Flynn, do you want anything to eat or drink? Bridge already had her afternoon snack, but there’re are few peanut butter cookies left.”
“I’m okay, thanks.” I couldn’t think about eating right now. Not with my stomach up around my throat.
Ali nodded and began to close the door. Panic gripped me.
“Hey, aren’t you . . . coming out with us?”
She stood there for a minute, her eyes steady on mine. “No. I think you’ve got this.” Her gaze flickered to our daughter.Our daughter.“Besides, I think you two have a lot of catching up to do.” She ducked back inside, shutting the door quietly.
Bridget climbed up onto the swing, and I sat down in the wicker chair with chipping paint, the same place Ali’d been sitting when I pulled up. It was still warm from her body. I ignored the feeling it gave me and attempted to strike up a conversation with my daughter.
“So.”Yeah, that was an auspicious start.“Bridget, your mom said she. . told you about me.”
She nodded. “Mommy said you were in town. Where’ve you been? Why weren’t you in town until now?”
Okay, so we’re going straight for the essay questions.“Well, uh, I travel all over the world. I take pictures for magazines, and I have to go to where the news is.”
Bridget blinked. “Most of my friends at school have dads who live in their house. Or somewhere around here. Except Bella, and her dad left last year.” She raised her foot up to the swing, bending her knee and wrapped her arms around it. “Were you here when I was a baby?”
I shook my head. “No, I wasn’t. Believe me, if I’d been here then, I never would’ve left.”
“Why weren’t you here? Why don’t you live with Mommy and me?” She scratched at the side of her leg.
“Um. I didn’t know you were my little girl, Bridget. I . . .” This was a pivotal moment. I wasn’t sure how to answer her, but I knew I had to tread carefully. “When your mom found out you were on the way, I’d already left Burton. And . . .” The image of Ali’s face as she’d described our last fight flashed across my memory with a stab of regret. “Your mom couldn’t get in touch with me, to tell me that you were coming. That was my fault. Because I’m the one who left her. But you have to know, Bridget, that if I’d known about you, I would’ve been back here. Nothing could’ve kept me from you.”
She bit her lip, a small frown between those deep eyes. “Are you going to live with Mommy and me now? And Uncle Sam and Aunt Meghan?”
I blew out a breath, rubbing my knee. “No, I’m not. I’m not married to your mom, and . . . yeah. Listen, Bridget, your mom and I’ve got a lot to talk about and figure out. For me, the most important thing was to meet you and let you meet me. Now that we’ve done that, we can see what happens next.”
“Are you going away again?” There was just a little tremor in that voice, and again, I was back with Ali, seeing her eyes filled with tears and her voice heavy with pain as she asked me a similar question.Are you going to leave me?
I’d been wrestling with this since Ali had left my mom’s house this morning. A big part of me wanted to jump that plane in Savannah and head for Los Angeles. I could go back to being the Flynn Evans who didn’t have a kid: I could forget all about Burton, Georgia and brown-eyed women who could still make me a little crazy. But on the other hand, I knew leaving wasn’t going to fix this problem. I had to figure out what my life was going to look like, now that I was a father.
And having seen her, I was sure leaving was out of the question. At least leaving tomorrow was.
“Not right away.” I finally answered her. “And if I do have to go someplace else, I’ll be back. I promise. I know you just met me, but I really want to be your dad.”
