Page 143 of The Golden Hour

Daisy is more settled with him, comfortable enough to be held by him for longer periods of time. He had a blast with her when they had their daddy-daughter time while Honey went out to pamper herself. She barely even fussed during tummy time, drank her bottle in his arms while he, his dad, and Phil watched the Eagles, and despite his singing voice being abysmal in comparison to Honey’s, easily went down for a nap.

It makes Mason feel good, like a competent father, because he was absolutely not for too long. But now he only thinks back on those times to course-correct. To make sure he never copies that behavior and models a better path forward. Because that’s all he can do. He can tell Honey that he’s going to be a good father all he wants—it doesn’t mean anything without action.

Honey presses a kiss to Daisy’s head as she grabs a yellow crayon and gently shades in the sun. He can’t quite see the full picture she’s drawn, but he doesn’t mind. His eyes trail over her happy expression, soft smile on her lips, healthy flush to her cheeks, and honey-golden hair falling in soft waves to her shoulders.

He looks down at Daisy and sees the same features on their daughter’s face, and it fills him with such warmth.

“I’ve got the best view in town,” Mason murmurs, only realizing that he said it out loud when Honey’s eyes lift to his.

And she beams.

“Still charming.”

“Still yours,” he counters.

Honey doesn’t glance back up at him, but he can see the bashful smile on her face.

He sticks out his tongue at Daisy, who giggles around Ellie’s ear.

“What did he say?” Honey asks then.

“I’m going to send him all my stuff, and we’re going to talk,” Mason smiles. “But I think he’ll write it for me.”

“That’s so great,” Honey says, “I…”

“What?” Mason gently prods.

“I never wanted you to give up being a doctor,” Honey says, her voice soft. “I know how hard you worked, how much you sacrificed. I just want you to know that.”

“I know, Honey.”

Honey’s eyes shimmer. “I’m so proud of you, Mason.”

Mason’s throat is tight, both at the words and the soft tone she uses to deliver them. It makes his heart feel like it’s swelling three times its size.

Mason opens his eyes to deny, to deflect, to remind her that he was a piece of shit that hurt her, and then realizes that would only be reminding her of the obvious. She knows he’s a piece of shit who hurt her. But she also knows that he’s not that person anymore. He’s not making those choices anymore.

He’s making himself into the person she deserves.

“Thank you, Honey,” Mason rasps, clearing his throat. “I’m so fucking proud of you, too.”

Her eyes shoot to his, a look of confusion passing across her face.

“You’re an incredible mother—the best. There is no one on this earth I would want to have kids with besides you,” Mason says, leaning forward. “But more than that, you faced something so terrifying, and you just keep moving forward. You’re still so optimistic, so sweet and gentle. Your strength floors me sometimes.”

“I don’t feel strong sometimes, but then I look at her and…” Honey smiles at Daisy. “I feel like I could lift a building if she needed me to.”

“I would put money that you absolutely could,” Mason jokes, making Honey snort. “But I’ve always kind of assumed you were magic.”

Honey smiles.

And Mason feels an odd sense of nostalgia as he sits in the same place they used to sit as lovestruck kids, now with their kid.

“You’ve been my best friend—my soulmate—since I was fourteen years old,” Mason says, chuckling an almost disbelieving laugh. “How many people are fortunate enough to get that?”

“Not many, I think,” Honey whispers, placing down the crayon.

“And I have that,” Mason laughs. “I’m so lucky, Honey. I have everything I will ever need at this table.”