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“She’s with me, Harper.” Hearing her approach, I called out again, “It’s okay, you can come in. I’m decent. Well as decent as a man can be naked in bed,” I added as she pushed open the door. I hadn’t meant anything by it, and I don’t even know why I mentioned the last part, but once I said it I had to own it.
“This little miss freaked me out by staring into my face while I was asleep, but you know what? I can’t think of a better sight to wake up to,” I admitted, looking at Layla as I spoke to Harper.
“I know, she’s a doll, isn’t she? Sometimes I feel I lucked out being able to care for her. She’s a treasure,” she added.
“And a pleasure. You told Cressida I was a pleasure to care for and that Daddy was amazing.”
Harper blushed crimson; the color not only reaching her cheeks, but also staining the skin on her neck a deep red.
“Thanks, Layla, but you should finish that sentence because I said he was an amazing dad.”
“Ouch, that burst my bubble. For a moment I thought you had designs on me, Harper.” As soon as my remark was out I wanted to punch myself in the head.
This was the twenty-six-year-old nanny to my motherless child and I had crossed the line with my inappropriate shit.
In all the time she had been with me, we’d enjoyed a relaxed relationship and I classed her as family. During all those years I never been remotely flirtatious or overstepped my position as her employer.
“Layla, let’s go downstairs and let your daddy get dressed. Matty has made the banana bread you begged her for this morning.” At the mention of Matty’s baking, Layla scooted off the bed.
Layla ran out the door faster than I knew her legs could carry her, her heavy little footsteps retreating into the distance. Glancing back at Harper, I caught her discomfort with my comment as she began to close my bedroom door.
“Thanks, Harper,” I mumbled, as the door closed softly behind her. “Fuck,” I cussed, banging my head back against the headboard in frustration. For a moment I sat stunned at what I’d done. Since the day I met Grace I’d never really flirted. yet my stupid fucked up mind had inadvertently done it with the one person I need the most.
CHAPTER NINE
For several minutes after Layla and Harper had gone back downstairs I stared into space, my mind completely blank. Eventually I decided the only thing I could do was apologize and hope Harper didn’t hold a grudge.
Reluctantly, I dragged my ass out of bed and prepared to eat a huge chunk of humble pie, in the attempt of building the bridge I should never have tried to cross in the first place.
Dressing in a clean pair of jeans and a soft blue T-shirt, I entered my bathroom to take another leak and wash my hands and face before heading downstairs.
Glancing in the mirror as I peed, I saw what Matty saw. The ratty beard I’d spent a long time hiding behind had to go. Shaking myself down, I wiped and tucked my flaccid dick away.
Turning toward the sink I grabbed the state-of-the-art electric razor Grace had bought me the Christmas before she died. I sighed heavily at the memory of her grinning when she’d opened the box and chuckled.
“One day… it’s all coming off,” she’d joked, “I figured I’d buy this for the time when you’re ready.” Grace had only ever seen me without my beard in pictures. Another pang of regret stabbed me in my chest.
“Guess I’m ready now, Grace,” I muttered aloud, and shook off the wave of emotion that threatened to interrupt my flow when I switched it on. The low steady buzz of the blades vibrating together, with the high and low pitched crunching sounds as my beard disappeared, felt cathartic.
Slowly, inch by inch, my paler skin came into view. Too late, I saw the difference between the exposed and unexposed skin and how hollow my cheeks were through the weight loss I suffered over time when my appetite disappeared.
By the time the beard was gone, I looked almost as ill as Grace appeared in those few short days right at the end. My face resembled footage I’d seen of prisoners of war in old news reels.
Stunned by how haunted I looked, I could hardly ignore the effects of neglect due to my mental state, because the visual representation looking back at me in the mirror shocked me to my core. I wasn’t pretty to look at, but my face was evidence of how ravaged my heart was by losing my wife.
For a moment I felt too weak to fight back, until the image of Layla broke into my selfish thoughts. It was enough of a wake-up call to ensure I fought myself back to health… if not for me, for her.
Grace was gone and, ultimately, I was all Layla had, so I owed it to her to change my errant ways and claw my body back to its peak of physical fitness.
For years I had been acting as if losing Grace was exclusive to me, but as I continued to stare at my wasted appearance, I knew I had to fight my way out of my grief and find the strength to take care of my daughter. Another thought gripped me, which was one day Layla would truly realize what it was she had lost, and I had to be ready to support her when that day happened.
Suddenly I had purpose and understood what I needed to do. No matter how difficult the previous years had been, it was what I did in the future that would support my little girl to balance and accept the circumstances Grace had left us in. Somehow, I had to find ways of bridging the gaps. How… I had no idea.
“Daddy, you’re taking a very long time up here,” Layla told me, breaking into my thoughts. “Where’s your face hair?” she asked, coming up close and staring up my long body with her huge rounded eyes. Bending, I picked her up and she instantly palmed the smooth skin on my face and inspected it thoroughly. “I like this better than that fuzzy jaggy stuff all over your chin,” she admitted.
A grin spread over my face. “You look handsome when you smile, Daddy. Look you have cute holes here,” she pointed out, poking a finger in each of my dimples. “Much better than when you’re like this,” she added, pulling a stern scowling face and pinching her lips into a line.
“Hmm, I look like that, huh?”
