Page 53 of Pucking Daddy

My heart skips.

“And that’s good,” she adds firmly. “Because people should laugh.”

“They should,” I agree softly.

She nods, satisfied, then squeezes my hand.

“You should stay,” she says again. “So someone loves him.”

My steps falter.

Just for a second.

“Sweetheart,” I start, but I don’t know what I’m about to say.

Because what do you say to that?

She looks up at me, completely earnest.

“He loves me,” she says. “But he needs someone to love him too.”

Something inside me cracks open a little.

God.

Kids.

They don’t filter. They don’t overthink. They just… say things.

“I think your dad is doing okay,” I manage.

She gives me a look that is far too knowing for a six-year-old.

“He could be better.”

We walk the rest of the way home, her chatter shifting back to school and dragons and snacks and everything else that makes up her world.

But her words stay with me.

He needs someone.

You should stay.

So someone loves him.

By the time we reach the building, my chest feels tight in a completely different way than it did this morning.

Lily immediately drags me into the living room to show me something she apparently forgot to mention.

We talk, we laugh, we work on a puzzle together. We snack on apple slices with peanut butter.

And then, finally, I hear the sound I’ve been waiting for—heavy footsteps in the hallway.

Lily perks up instantly. “Daddy!”

She jumps off the couch and runs toward him. I follow more slowly, my heart suddenly beating a little too fast.

He steps into the apartment just as she launches herself at him.