My vision blurs. I try to brush the tear away before he sees it.
Too late.
I think holding my breath to bite it back gave me away.
He moves my hand aside, pressing soft kisses along the wet trail down my cheek, kissing every tear away with the warmth of his lips. I've never felt this exposed, never this cared for by anyone in my life.
Being the youngest in a fucked-up family meant I was surrounded by people who did a pretty bad job of taking care of me.
Parents absent, Nan sick, Jay and Cherry were children themselves, playing mum and dad with me. Yes, the version children usually play with their dolls, except I was breathing. None of them understood what I wanted, what I actually needed.
Maybe that’s why I turned into the walking cliché: lonely, even in a room full of people.
And then, a solid fifteen years later, I abandoned my own child, like the generational fuck-up I am.
I fold my arms, deciding the crystals on the shelves are safer to look at.
“Don’t hide your pain from me.”
I swallow. “No one ever asks me about her.”
“No one?”
I shake my head. “Why would they? Jay adopted her, she’s his daughter. The apple of his eye. He taught her to ride a bike. Drove her to her first day of school. Picked her up on her last. When she broke her arm, he took her to the hospital. He chased away the ghosts under her bed, made her feel safe. I watched from the sidelines, until I couldn’t anymore. So I disappeared. Told myself it was better that way.”
This is hard. And for someone who’s cracked more in the past month than in the last decade, you’d think I’d be used to it by now. Newsflash, I’m not. Not even close.
“Does she know you’re her real father?”
“Yeah, she does, and she remembers me being her dad.”
I smile. “We used to dance every night before bed to Groovejet. Because—obviously—Sophie is the queen.”
Yosh grins. I know exactly what he’s thinking, but he’s smart enough not to say it.
“Sophie is the queen,” he repeats.
I smirk, giving him a light shove, then fold my arms.
“When we lost Chris, all I wanted was to protect Effy. It became an obsession. I’d sit up all night beside her crib, only slept when I handed her to Jay. Then the fire happened. After that… I stopped trusting myself around her. Now she won’t talk to me. And fair enough, I’m a fucking coward”
Yosh’s smile fades.
“Sapphire, don’t punish yourself like this. You were so young. You went through hell and didn’t get the support you needed, of course you were scared. You did what you believed would protect her.”
“It’s been fucking hard. All these years have gone by, and I’m nowhere near the father she deserves. I couldn’t bring myself to face her while I was still drinking and using. I didn’t want her to see me like that. She’s so sweet, so pure. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s the truth. Effy’s perfect.”
I scroll through my phone gallery where I’ve secretly collected hundreds of photos over the years.
“Look, this is me with Chris and Effy the day they were born.”
Yosh gasps, taking my phone with trembling hands. He starts swiping, one photo after another.
Effy in a field of daffodils.
Effy blowing out eight candles.
Effy reading a poem at the school talent show.
