Page 92 of Worthy of Sunsets and Second Chances

Wren is growing and changing so fast. Her first word was in fact “dada,” and Eli cried like a baby. He is the best dad I have ever seen, and that is saying something because my own is top tier.

Speaking of which, we have dinner together now once a week, he is constantly texting with Eli, calls himself Papa Max, and spoils the crap out of Wren. Every time he comes over he has something for her. It’s never big or extravagant, sometimes even just her favorite food of the week like a jar of applesauce. Being around us, Wren especially, has brought back a spark to him that has been dimmed for a long, long time.

Eli said that they bonded when I was in the hospital, had a “man-to-man” chat while they waited for me to wake up. Whenever they are together you can see Eli come to life in a different way too. My dad treats him like he treats me, lovingly and fatherly. He calls Eli “son” often, which always seems to shock Eli and then settle into him like a pulsing wave, a jolt right to his heart. I have watched it happen time and time again.

“Can I ask you a question?” Eli and I are cleaning up after putting Wren to bed. My dad’s just left after another one of our weekly get-togethers. He and Eli grilled chicken on the deck, and I made a fresh salad to go with it and brownies for dessert. Eli ate three, enthusiastically declaring them the best he’s ever had while brushing the crumbs off his blue Henley that forms to his arms in a way that melts my brain.

“You can ask me anything, sweetheart, you know that.” He shuts the dishwasher and turns to me.

“Do you want me to ask my dad to stop calling you son?” I worry my bottom lip.

Eli goes still. “What?”

“Well, I just noticed that whenever he calls you that, you, I don’t know . . . seem uncomfortable, maybe?”

He crosses and uncrosses his arms. “It’s not that, no. I, um, I actually really like it when he says that,” Eli says very quietly, a tinge of pink warming his cheeks.

I step over to him and rub up and down his distracting arms. “What? Talk to me, please?”

His mournful eyes look at me, the navy blue awash with unshed tears. “I think your dad might actually like me, love me even?”

“Of course he does!” I exclaim, knowing it’s the truth.

“Well, my own dad never truly did. He didn’t say it, didn’t stay, didn’t want our family, didn’t want me. Never once did he call me son, sweetheart. So, yeah, when your dad does it . . . it means something, surprises me. I’m still getting used to it. And, God, I pray that I don’t ever do anything to fuck it up. To make him stop.”

A tear slides down his handsome face and cracks something in my soul.

We hold on to each other for a long time in the silence of the kitchen, letting our love be enough to say the words we can’t find.

His father is a horrible person. Still after all this time, my man stands here terrified that he’s not enough, that he was the reason a shitty person made the choice to abandon a wife and four children.

Even now Eli is worried that the people who love him completely could still just walk away from him. I squeeze him tightly to me, my head pressing into his chest.

“Ahh, ouch,” he says.

“What! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” My eyes scan his body, finding no obvious injuries.

Eli chuckles. “No, no I’m fine. I just have a surprise for you.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I say, “Ouch, and you being in pain does not sound like the kind of thing I’m into. You were boxing with Rem and Matt today, right? Did one of those fuckers bruise your perfect ribs? I will kick their asses.”

“Easy killer, no ass kicking is needed. Come with me.” Eli leads me up to his bedroom and shuts the door.

I sit on the bed and wait semi-patiently. He turns on the bedside lamp, strips out of his jeans, socks, and Henley. With only his black briefs and a T-shirt on he goes to his mirrored dresser and opens his drawer. His underwear drawer.

“I thought the whole point was to get undressed, not get more clothes.”

“Shhh,” Eli says, back still to me.

“Did you just shush me! Hulk, you—” but my words die on my tongue when he turns around with my drawing in his hand.

“I only do it when I need you to shhh.” The cocky asshole winks at me, and my traitorous pussy yells “Yes, Daddy!”

“Still can’t believe you have this,” I say, unfolding it and lightly tracing my finger over the wing that looks more like angel feathers.

“Permanently,” Eli says, stripping off his T-shirt slowly, revealing a huge Saniderm bandage covering his left pec, over his heart.

“What did you do?!” I jump off the bed and rush to him.