Page 107 of The Golden Hour

“He’s been sleeping right here,” Melissa said, pointing to the ground. “To be close enough so you wouldn’t have to get out of bed.”

Honey felt something in her gut at that. A mixture of exasperation and affection that swirled together and made her dizzy. She had wondered how he was able to get to their daughter so fast, and figured she was just slow to get out of bed.

As she said before, Mason didn’t do anything in half-measures.

“Sleeping on the floor like a dog won’t erase those months…” Honey said through a near closed throat. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep the tears at bay.

“And they shouldn’t,” Melissa said simply.

“But it’s…” Honey swallowed. “It’s something that he did for us.”

Her mother nudged her shoulder. “He did that for you, Honeybee.”

Honey frowned and peered at her mother. “Are you telling me that I should forgive him?”

“No!” Melissa’s face screwed up. “Absolutely not. I would never tell you what to do with your marriage, Honey. But whatever you are feeling, you are allowed to feel. Being angry at him doesn’t have to be misery for you. Allow yourself to enjoy these moments. He’s doing better, but he’s got a lot to make up for.”

Honey swallowed and glanced back at Mason, still unaware of his audience.

She smiled when she saw him shaking his hips and trying to mimic Springsteen’s gritty voice as he switched from “Hungry Heart” to “Dancing in the Dark.”

“I feel happy in these moments,” Honey admitted. “And then a little guilty that I’m happy because I feel like I should just constantly be angry at him. He’s… he really hurt me, Mom.”

Melissa nodded.

“But, for the last month he’s been… great,” Honey shrugged. “He’s making up for it. I know he feels awful. I know he still loves me. I know he’s trying, and I don’t want to be stubborn and mean.”

“I don’t think you could be mean if you tried, Honeybee,” Melissa smiled lovingly.

Honey sighed. “But I don’t want to be too soft and forgiving either. It’s… it’s hard.”

“Like Dr. DeNunez told you. Day by day,” Melissa murmured, wrapping an arm around Honey’s shoulders and squeezing. “Allow yourself to feel joy, Honey. You deserve joy.”

Honey smiled as her mother pressed a kiss to her forehead before turning to head back downstairs to finish dinner. Honey was rooted to the spot and continued to watch Mason and Daisy for a few more minutes.

“Come on and dance with me, baby girl,” Mason crooned to Daisy who smiled. “Your mommy and I danced to this at our wedding, you know that? Mommy looked like a princess, and Daddy could barely breathe. That was one of the best days of my life. Right next to meeting her, and meeting you…”

Honey pressed a hand to her chest, felt joy, and smiled before walking back down to the kitchen.

That was Daisy and Mason’s moment, and she was happy to let them have it.

The memory warms her even now, sitting across from Dr. Tierra DeNunez, trying to explain a happiness that still scares her because she worries it will be snatched from her one day. Or worse, that her reproachful, dark thoughts will ruin everything before anyone else gets the chance.

Dr. DeNunez is the therapist that Marlene had found for her, specializing in postpartum depression. She’s been seeing her for the last month, and has felt improvement in herself. Slowly, but surely.

The office is warm and inviting, a big contrast to the sterile white walls and padded room that Honey had been catastrophizing about. Honey has been such a big supporter of therapy in the past, encouraging new parents at the daycare that it shows true strength to ask for help.

And yet, as she scheduled the appointment, all she felt was that it was confirmation she was crazy and unstable. That she was a horrid mother and would traumatize her daughter eventually. Daisy would hate her and resent her one day.

Which is silly when you look at how Daisy seems to live and breathe for Honey.

Two weeks ago, they had an end-of-summer barbecue in the backyard where some of Honey’s extended family came over to meet Daisy. Her cousin, Fia, who has always been more like a sister, even drove down from New York with her three-year-old son, Jamie.

Fia was the only one Daisy would allow to hold her for more than five minutes. Her cousin cried a little when Honey leaned over to whisper that she was holding her goddaughter.

Jamie was completely enamored with the “tiny baby” and with his mommy’s reminder of “gentle, gentle,” Jamie pressed a kiss to Daisy’s little head, which made every single person melt.

“God, I forgot how good they smell,” Fia said, pressing her nose to Daisy’s head. “It makes me want another so bad. But Ryan said we should wait two more years, until work is more settled and because… you know…”