Page 33 of Pucking Daddy

“I’m sorry, bug.”

Her mouth wobbles for just a second before she presses it flat again. “Maybe she forgot.”

There are a hundred responses I could give to that, and most of them would be honest in ways a six-year-old doesn’t deserve.

Your mother is unreliable.

Your mother keeps making promises she can’t keep.

Your mother loves you but she is drowning in her own life and sometimes I want to shake her until she understands that none of this gets to land on you.

None of that makes it past my teeth.

Instead I brush a hand over Lily’s hair and keep my voice low and steady. “Maybe she had a hard day.”

Lily finally looks up at me. “A hard day like when I cry because math is mean?”

I huff out a breath that might almost be a laugh. “Something like that.”

She leans against my chest. “Did I do something bad?”

Oh, shit.

Anger flashes hot and ugly—at her mother, at anything that made my daughter feel this way. But I don’t let it show.

I tip Lily’s chin up gently until she has to look at me.

“No,” I say, firm enough that she hears it. “Absolutely not. This has nothing to do with you.”

She searches my face, checking for cracks.

Kids always know.

Even when they don’t have the words for it, they know when an adult is feeding them something too polished to be true.

So I make sure what I give her is the truth.

“Your mom loves you,” I say. “I love you. That part never changes.”

“Then why didn’t she call?”

Because loving someone and being good at loving them are not always the same thing.

Because adults are complicated and selfish and broken in ways kids should never have to pay for.

I swallow all of that and go with the only version she can carry.

“Sometimes grown-ups have a lot going on,” I say. “More than they know what to do with. Sometimes they mess things up, even when they don’t want to.”

Her forehead wrinkles. “That’s dumb.”

A short laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “Yeah. It is.”

She seems pleased that I agree.

I kiss her forehead, let my lips rest there for an extra beat. “But none of that is because of you. Do you hear me?”

She nods.