Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
It feels more fitting to do it here, where we're alone, and she can process her emotions in private.
"Oh, I like presents!" she says, kicking her feet.
I smile, brushing her hair back from her face. "This is a special present."
"Really? How come?"
"Well, do you remember what I told you about your daddy?"
"He got lost before I was born," she whispers, a shadow passing over her face. "Everybody says he died when he got lost." Her gaze flits over my face. "But I don't believe that, mommy."
"Me neither," I whisper, my throat so tight it hurts to breathe. I always wondered if it was wrong to give her false hope, but how could I kill hers when I still clung to my own?
Now, I'm glad I left her that little kernel of hope because I have to tell her that he's alive. That he's here, and that he wants to meet her. I don't even know where to begin. So I'm starting here, with this.
"Well, I bought this for your daddy the day we got married," I say, slipping the guitar pick out of my pocket and holding it out to her.
"Ohh," she whispers, plucking it from my palm with wide eyes. She holds it up in front of her face, scrutinizing it. "What is it?"
"It's a guitar pick, baby girl. He used it when he played his guitar for me."
"He used this?" she whispers, awe in her voice.
"Yeah, he did." I swallow the lump in my throat, reaching out to trace the dents and scratches and chips along the surface. "All of these mean he used it a lot. It was special to him, lovebug. Now, it's yours."
She stares at it for a long time, not saying anything. And then she blinks, turning to look at me with a thousand questions swirling through her expressive eyes. "How come you're giving it to me now, Mommy? Where did you find it?"
"I…" Panic surges through my veins, closing up my throat. For a long moment, I don't know what to say or how to say it. She's only five. How do I explain this to her so she'll understand when I don't even understand?
"It's why you're sad, huh?" she whispers, far too perceptive. That's always been my problem with her. She sees far more than she should for a girl her age. No matter how hard I try, I can't hide anything from her. She's just like Grayson in that way.
"Yeah, baby girl," I whisper, nodding as I crawl into her bed with her. I curl my body around hers, holding her close. "I have something to tell you. It might seem scary."
"I'm a big girl now. I'll be okay, Mommy." She pats my hand, trying to reassure me, which has a sob catching in my throat. God, she's so damn brave. I hope she never loses that.
"Your daddy did get lost, Brinley." I stroke my fingers through her hair. "He's been lost for a long time. But he's back now. He gave me that guitar pick to give you."
"My…my daddy is back?" The hope in her voice kills me.
"Yeah, baby," I whisper, tears dripping down my cheeks. "He's back."
"Where is he, Mommy? Why isn't he here?" She cranes her neck around to look at me. "Why isn't he home with us?"
"It's complicated, lovebug."
"Oh." Her bottom lip quivers. "That means I'm never going to see him, doesn't it?"
"What? No, of course not!" I cup her little cheeks, my heart aching. "Why would you think that, Brinley Grace?"
"Because that's what it meant with Grandpa." She shrugs, her eyes watery. "It was comblicated, and he made you sad, so we never saw him. And then he died."
"This is different," I say, my voice firm. "Even if it's complicated, you will see your daddy. He isn't going to die."
"When will we see him?"
"Soon."
"How soon?"
"I don't know."
She sighs heavily. "Because it's comblicated."
"Because we both want what's best for you, and what's best for you is making sure that you're completely okay with this here—" I tap my finger against her temple "—and here."
"But I am okay, Mommy." She frowns at me. "Daddy is home."
I sigh, pressing my lips to her forehead. "I'm happy he's home too, lovebug. But our job is to make sure that him coming home doesn't make your life feel like it's out of your control. Can you give us a few days to make sure we're doing that the right way?"
She narrows her eyes at me. "How many days?"
"A few."
"Can I meet Kasen while I wait?"
"You know what? I'm not even going to argue with that," I mutter. "If meeting Kasen Alexander means you're okay with this, then fine. I'll find a way to make it happen."
She beams at me, and I'm fairly certain I just got played by my five-year-old daughter. But I exhale a relieved breath anyway. Because, all things considered, this went a heck of a lot better than I was afraid it might go.